Time Will Heal Wounds
by LadyAutreVita
Summary: There are some things in this universe that can not be explained or understood. Time travel, apparently, is one of them and love is another. Combining the two together can have some disastrous results at both ends. C/R, E/C, E/O.C.
1. An Act of Creation

There are some quick facts about this story:

Summary: By some bizarre chance, a young woman finds herself in the past and in the clutches of the feared Opera Ghost. Finding her way home is the least of her worries...

Canon Characters: Most of them, if not all of them are based off the musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber; because that is the version I was introduced to first. The Joel Schumacher movie, to be exact. For example, Erik's physical appearance mainly based off of Gerard Butler (Maybe a little Richard Armitage thrown in for good measure. Check out the 2004 BBC mini-series North & South.) but has the eyes from the novel because amber-gold eyes are somehow far more threatening. Christine tends to lean more towards the novel version in personality. Things like that.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Phantom universe. That all belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber and his company. I also lay no claim to any of the song lyrics used either.

**Chapter 1**

_- Every act of creation is first an act of destruction. ~ Pablo Picasso - _

**Paris, France – Early 1870's**

Smoke seemed to still lazily rise from the charred remains of Opera l'Populaire. Deep wounds inflicted during the horrendous tragedy healed slowly. Around the City of Light, people had learned of the fatal Don Juan Triumphant performance and the strange affair that had occurred before the chandelier came crashing down on the stage. The story itself spread faster than the actual fire had. Every single Parisian citizen knew the woes of the two opera managers dealing with the results of the disaster that nearly destroyed the entire opera house. Several rumors floated about saying Richard Firmin and Gilles André had big plans to sell the place off to some foreign businessmen. The cost of repairs being far too great for even successful 'strap metal' men of their caliber. The first bit of gossip was utter rubbish, yet the second little bit was completely true. Their only saving grace was the building did not burn down to its foundations. The two men were received quite the sum of money from the damage insurance to fix the once beautiful building. Some Parisians saw this as a very smart choice on their part to take out a policy on the grand building. Others believed the fire to be a complex conspiracy to get the money in the first place. People liked to think whatever they wanted, even if it had no evidence. Money for repairs came pouring in from faithful, wealthy opera patrons who would rather go bankrupt than to see their beloved Opera L'Populaire disappear forever. A good deal of the funds, however, came straight from the Comte de Chagny and his loving young bride, the Comtesse de Chagny (formerly known as Christine Daaè).

The de Chagny money came with requirements that were to be fulfilled with the repairs of the Opera House. The Comte had simply stated financial affairs were to be dealt with more carefully than before. He did not want the two men spending any more than absolutely necessary, meaning the Opera Ghost's salary was to be cut entirely from the budget. No problems there, seeing how that man was dead. The Comtesse though had made an extremely odd request of the workers. Christine had demanded that O.G's cavernous lair be completely sealed up, but nothing was to ever be taken from the beautiful place. Not a single candle stick and if there had been anything removed, it was to be replaced with an exact replica. Their fairly simple requests were followed without a single question. It was better to go along with the hand that feeds instead of biting it. Two long years after its demise, the Opera l'Populaire was ready to once again open its doors.

Casting calls were made in haste for some new opera. Ballerinas, singers and musicians came flocking in a massive horde to the auditions while all manner of servants lined up down the street for job interviews. The Opera l'Populaire was looking to hire a new staff and cast, seeing how the damningly evil Opera Ghost had scared them all away. There was the offer for any previous workers to return to their jobs with an incentive of a pay raise. None returned, save two. Madame Giry and her pretty little daughter, Meg Giry came to the interviews just like everyone else. They stood in line, waiting patiently to see the managers. The opera house was their home; where else would they go besides this place? Madame Giry was hired on as head of the ballet department, just as before, on the spot. Little Meg however was now second-in-command underneath her. She would be overseeing the teaching of the younger girls in the ballet school while her mother supervised the senior dancers. Firmin asked Madame Giry to sit in on auditions in order to help the men pick out the stars from the mob. Still, money that could have been used to promote the stupid opera was now being wasted on getting people to play the parts and help run the theatre. Neither the mangers nor Raoul were entirely excited about that little fact. Yet, the show must go on. Let the Comte's family deal with the price tag since his little wife was so invested in the place, said both of the managers to themselves as advertisements went up for jobs.

The auditions themselves were pure hell. It was a week after the first day of endless crowds of people that it was finally time to hear the singers. All of the dancers, musicians, stage hands and other servants were hired. Now it was time for the main part of the opera. Each singer was to come on stage to sing a piece for the mangers, their patron, and Madame Giry. They were then to be subjected to the criticism of the crowd. It was at that moment they would find out if they made it or not. Harsh, perhaps but it kept the penny-pinching managers from having to hold call backs. The prima singers would be announced just before rehearsals started.

First day of singing auditions were a complete disaster. A young woman fainted after merely walking on and Monsieur Firmin addressed her. Another singer, a young man this time, found the contents of his stomach on the stage just as he opened his mouth to sing. More cases of nerves and stage fright posed a serious issue. How were they ever to find a cast now? One girl, a raven-haired Italian by the name of Claire Tulio, stood out the most. Her voice was lovely, reminiscent of a much younger La Carlotta. She was one of twenty that actually made the cut. Madame Giry looked at the managers with a slightly disapproving expression as the girl just smirked, carrying herself off stage with the same air about her as the previous prima donna. All André was able to say was "She can sing."

The Girys were not the only ones to return to their restored home, despite what everyone else thought. Hidden among the dark shadows, high above the stage, watched a pair of cool amber eyes. Their owner huffed impatiently. What a tragic sight this was. That Claire girl had been the only girl remotely good. She however reminded him too much of a snotty old hag that once cursed this place. God, he prayed that the witch would stay in Italy for his health as well as her own. Although, this girl was going to be a miniature version of La Carlotta. Hm… That was unfortunate. His long, dramatic cape swooshed behind him as the shadow briskly turned to leave this mess of an audition. There was no reason to stay, but where would he go? Everywhere else just held memories of his past and his place, so why not remain here? He get past all their meek attempts to shut him out of his own home. A thought wandered into his tormented mind, _Down I plunge… into the mouth of hell and the domain of my insanity_.


	2. No Fixed Plans

**Chapter 2**

_- A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving. ~ Lao Tzu - _

**Paris, France – December, Present Day**

Fragile December snow fell from the pale sliver clouds hanging mournfully above the large city of Paris. French citizens strolled down the sidewalks at a comfortable pace, braving the rather frigid weather while caffeine-crazed tourist practically ran down the streets, in a feeble attempt to get to their destination. The Musee D'Orsay, Notre Dame then off to take a thousand photos in front of the Eiffel Tower. Couple held hands, their breath visibly mingling in the winter's cold biting air. Snow was piled on where it could, to create a picturesque winter wonderland. Everything looked incredibly peaceful and serene like something off an old post card.

Various boutiques lined le rue Scribe as well as a million little cafes. One such café, Café Etoile de Mort (Death Star Café) to be exact, was playing host to a pair of runaways. Two teenage girls sat in a corner table, talking excitedly about the adventure they had just experienced. They had been in school tour at the Louvre when they escaped to the streets of Paris. They sipped at their coffee, laughing happily. The two seemed fairly easy-going and relaxed for a pair of American teens. Scarves and mittens lay abandoned on the table, small puddle of melted snow collecting on the hard table surface. Heavy winter coats hung off the back of their chairs, dripping water on to the floor.

The taller of two had light brown hair with scattered thin blond highlights. She had pulled her wavy hair into a simple ponytail. She was oddly thin for her height, giving her an almost starved look. The strange thing was that she ate a lot, but never gained a solitary pound. Her friend, however, was the exact opposite of the lanky girl. The other girl had bright doe-brown eyes and auburn hair. The color was so deep that is looked brown unless one inspected the color up close. She was overweight, but everyone else agreed that she looked fine the way she was. She was also a few inches shorter then her companion and wider. Her doe eyes were locked on to a nondescript spot in the sky. They were glazed over, daydreaming.

"Hey, Madison? Anyone there? Come on now. Why would you be thinking of Hayden in a foreign country with gorgeous French boys all around us?" teased the taller. Madison's young face turned a crimson red color as she looked at her friend. She glared daggers at the grinning girl.

"Why would I think of that loser, Christine? No way, I am so over him…" She cut herself off before finishing her thought. The seventeen year old sighed heavily. Hayden was her boyfriend back in the US. He was a sweet boy, a year her junior, who never remembered anything very important. It got annoying after awhile, so Madi dumped him. She was having regrets now that Christine had brought him up. She missed his warm brown eyes and that devilish smile he flashed her in the halls at school, but he was in the past. She had to stop thinking about him so much. There was no way that it was healthy for her mind, but how was she supposed to move on if everything seemed to bring up some old memory of him?

"Hey, Miss Moody. Want to check out the old Opera House down the street from here? It is the same one the Phantom of the Opera is supposed to have haunted and the same one your dear family friend, Revion Seymour, bought." Christine asked standing up, throwing her money on the small table. They gathered their things, pulling gloves and coats on. Madison nodded slowly, following her friend out of the warm café into the winter air of December. She pulled her overcoat tightly around her at the thought of seeing the handsome Revion Seymour. A smile, a rather embarrassed one at that, made its way on to Madison's face at the very mention of the older boy. He made the anxiety over Hayden completely disappear. They wandered down the streets, conversing in broken French about the things around them. Christine yelled at a fire hydrant for looking at her, and at a dog for meow at her too loudly. The French people just stared, grumbling lowly about foolish American girls and their tendency for being disrespectful.

As they reached the Opera House, Madison become oddly quiet as she stared at the building in front of them. It was more beautiful than anything she had ever seen back in the states, same with most of the things in France. Europe for that matter. That was not what made her fall silent. There in front of the Opera l'Populaire was a long stretched out black car waiting for whomever it had brought here. The license plate read 'SEYM2' meaning the limousine personally belonged to Revion Seymour, son of a British nobleman and founder of the second largest music recording company in the world. Revion was fresh out of high school but was well on his way to being one of the richest men in the world. Luckily, for Madi, he was nowhere to be seen at the moment. Every time she was around him, she could barely talk or think straight. Revion had a silent power over Madison that really was beyond frustrating.

"How are we supposed to get in?" muttered the tall girl glancing at two buff bodyguards standing in front of the main entrance. The two friends had stopped just across the street, now looking warily at the front door. Not exactly the friendliest looking fellows either. The goons looked like they would have no problem roughing up two innocent girls if they had the notion. Christine had already started towards them. Madison reached out, grabbing her stubborn friend by the hood of her jacket. She thought a moment more before speaking.

"Hold on, remember the part of that Joel Schumacher movie where young Madame Giry hides little Erik in the Opera House?"

"Yea" Christine said a touch of sarcasm in her voice. How could she forget? The pair had watched that movie over and over. They almost had it down, able to spit out lines just for fun. Although it was beginning to become a bit borderline obsessive.

"Well, what if we were to use that same tunnel to get into the Opera House?" Madison pointed to a small iron gated window that sat next to the staircase. The two smirked at each other, unvoiced excitement sparkling in both of their eyes. After what felt like an eternity of crossing the street to the opera house, the friends started to pry open the heavy gate. The two guards had barely even looked at them as the girls had passed by, talking nervously. Its hinges were rusted after almost a century of neglect but never squeaked as the gate came open. Inside was pitch black so there was no way to tell if what sort of distance there was to the floor or if there even was a floor. Madison said a quick prayer before going into the darkness. Her feet touched the floor, but she had not expected such a short drop. Her knees buckled, throwing her to the cold, slimy ground. Another, lighter thud let her know that Christine had jumped down as well.

"Madison, are you ok?" Called a slightly freaked Christine. She was a few feet behind Madison, but it was too dark to see much of anything. The girl picked herself up off the floor just to be knocked into by Christine. Madison stumbled forward a few steps then corrected herself before falling in to the wall.

"You're it!"Madison joked, whacking her friend in the shoulder. Laughter filled the darkness as they ran in to the darkness of the underworld. Soon their game became a search to find way out of this long tunnel. It seemed to just go on and on, never turning. Of course the darkness didn't help the sense of eternity. Soon only Madison could her footsteps in the lonely tunnel. Where did Christine go? She stopped a moment to listen. Nothing. Only her own breathing could be heard and the distant sound of water. Panicked thoughts ran through her mind as she continued walking. Where did her friend go? She couldn't have possibly gone a different way… Dim light cast itself across the wall up ahead. Madison raced towards the light, eager to get out of the cold darkness. Maybe Christine had somehow gotten ahead.

What she found made her mouth drop open.


	3. Merely Inquisitive

**Chapter 3**

_- I have no particular talent. I am merely inquisitive. ~ Albert Einstein - _

**Paris, France – December, Present Day**

Madison stood there with her mouth hanging open like a large, overfed goldfish. The light was shining through another gated window, dust particles floating lazily about in the beams. On the other side of the iron bars was a simple little chapel. Its walls covered in aged grime looked like something out of a movie. A tapestry of a beautiful angel hung crooked on one of the walls, tattered by the cruel hands of time. The creature had a gentle, motherly face that would comfort any crying lost soul. Whomever or whatever she was looking at was long gone. On either side of the hanging tapestry stood two identical brass stands with aged pictures. The photos lined up in two neat little rows on each stand. A memorial to the dead, members of the opera staff long since passed. Candles or least the remains of candles were placed in front of each photograph. The thing that really stole her attention from the beautiful bit of history was the young man kneeling in front of the angel. He wore fitted black jeans and a plain black tee shirt, hugging the toned body. One could tell that this guy didn't sit at home, eating on his couch all day long. Those slightly faded jeans displayed a very nice, firm backside and the tee hugged toned biceps. Drool threatened to drip down her chin which she wiped up quickly, embarrassed beyond belief. She never was one to physically drool over a guy. Maybe, perhaps mentally but actual drool, never ever. Madison watched intently as he stood up from the floor. He turned towards the door, never looking towards the grate that she was pressed up against. His well shine shoes tapped against the floor, trailing his path out of the chapel. She noted his hair was an odd shade of blond that was really somewhat attractive… and familiar. It couldn't be him, could it?

"MADISON! Wait for me PLEASE!" Christine pleaded, her voice carrying from somewhere deep in the tunnel passages. She could her dear friend's footsteps coming closer and closer. There wasn't any need to be screaming like that. Her attention pivoted back into the small room, her heart nearly gave out from shock. Amber-colored eyes stared amusedly at the American teen from the other side of the grate. Revion Seymour cracked a broad grin that spread cross his beautifully sculpted face. His wildly colored eyes stared at Madison playfully as he spoke.

"Mademoiselle DeLogio, what a… delightful surprise to find you lurking about in the dark! Your parents mentioned to me that you were in Paris for an extended school trip. I was just on my way to your host family's home to see if I might take you out for dinner tonight. How is my darling angel?" He unlatched a hook opening the gate that separated the two of them. He reached out; grabbing Madison's wrist in order to help her through the old gateway. Her foot caught on the edge of the ledge, tripping her forward to fall against Revion. The older boy just laughed, hugging her tightly before releasing her to stand up. Christine finally made an appearance from the dark passage, quickly climbing out the dark of the tunnels and in to the chapel. She glared at Revion fiercely as she started to brush the dirt off of her clothing and her hair. Madison held back a sigh as the older boy returned the favor to her dear best friend. The two were never exactly on speaking terms from the first time they met in school. Christine didn't trust Revion and Lord Seymour thought Miss Day was a brat. Madison was never really clear as to why they thought this way, but she was ready to play peacemaker if need be.

"I'm fine, Lord Seymour. We were just looking around. You know how curious I can at times." Madison answered his question sweetly before him and Christine could start in on their fighting again. His devilish smile returned, making her knees go weak and threaten to give out from under her. Christine rolled her eyes as she examined the tapestry of the angel carefully. She muttered something about Madison being able to forget all about Hayden suddenly and being a wonton hussy of sorts. Madison stifled a laugh, trying not to make her friend any madder at the moment. She had said she would never fall for someone with a great smile and charm again. Especially after Hayden left her for someone who she truly thought was her friend. That fiasco was over and done with… but one would think that she learned her lesson from being burned that badly by the people she trusted most. With Revion though, it was hard to resist anything he did. Just one of those charismatic, attractive guys.

"I told you to call me Revi, Angel. It is a funny thing I should meet you here. I am having a bit of a problem, but we must discuss it elsewhere. Come follow me." Revion said in an odd tone of voice. Tension had crept in, making him sound strained and tired. There was definitely something going on with him. She followed him out with Christine close behind her. She tapped Madison's shoulder lightly. Madison glanced back at her and stopped in her tracks on the staircase which led up from the chapel. Something wasn't right. Her face was paler than normal.

"Madison… Back in the passageway… When I was walking alone, I heard footsteps. I thought it was you, so I followed them. It was a dead end, but there was nothing standing there. A voice whispered in my ear. I could feel a cold breeze on my cheek as if the person was standing right next to me. 'Stay away from here! Get your friend and leave.' I was so scared as I ran till I got to where you were standing. That's why I was yelling like that…" Madison felt the color drain from her own face. She could not say any words of comfort to her friend so she just hugged Christine tightly. Who had been in the passage with her? The words held a definite threat towards both of them, perhaps even Revion as well. He would want to hear about this. Not now though. He had problems of his own to attend to and this didn't seem all too important, at least immediately. Christine and she could handle it on their own.

Maybe.

They quickly turned to catch up with Revion, who was patiently waiting at the end of a dim hallway. He pushed open the door, revealing the cast quarters where people once prepared for that night's opera. The quarters went several stories up, each with its own purpose to aid the production. Madison tried to take it all in at once but her head was spinning at the thought of being in such a haunted place. Everything seemed surreal as the trio walked into the theater itself.

"We are working to bring everything up to code. This place has just sat condemned for years but now it will be the world's premiere opera house again with state-of-the-art technologies for everything." Revion was explaining to the air at the moment for Madison suddenly forgot how to breathe as she stood on stage staring out at the rows of red velvet plush seats. Her eyes glanced over each overstuffed seat, each high box, and every light fixture with excitement. Gold plated banisters and casts glittered in the electric lights that were put in place of the old lanterns. A loud gasp escaped from her lips as she settled her gaze on the repaired chandelier. It was twice as beautiful in real life, each crystal twinkling in the light that surrounded it. Small glints of rainbows danced over the seats from the movement of the air in the theater. Madison got this sudden urge to sing in front of the empty seats. Too bad for whoever was listening at the moment. She wasn't very good.

_Child of the wilderness,  
__Born into emptiness,  
__Learn to be lonely,  
__Learn to find your way in darkness._

_Who will be there for you?  
__Comfort and care for you?  
__Learn to be lonely,  
__Learn to be your one companion._

_Never dreamed out in the world,  
__There are arms to hold you,  
__You've always known your heart was on its own.  
__So laugh in your loneliness,_

_Child of the wilderness.  
__Learn to Be lonely,  
__Learn how to love life that is lived alone.  
__Learn to be lonely,_

_Life can be lived,  
__Life can be loved…  
__Alone._

Madison had closed her eyes at some point in the gorgeously sad song. It made her think of Erik the infamous Opera Ghost. His legend was so influential to other authors, artists and song writers. The love story was right up there with Romeo and Juliet by good ol' Billy… er… William Shakespeare. Slowly she opened her eyes, glancing at Box 5 in respect of the true Angel of Music. A fast white glint from the box made several things happen. Her pulse sped up as adrenaline rushed around in her veins. Her heart felt like it stopped though, and she was suddenly dizzy. The feelings lasted for only two seconds. Still, it was the strangest thing.

"I could have sworn…" Madison muttered turning to face Revion who looked shocked. She thought he had seen the white flash, but he started clapping for the girl's performance.

"Brava! I had no idea you could sing like that, Angel! It was absolutely beautiful," Revion beamed at the blushing girl "Lucky for us that the Opera Ghost disappeared a long time ago in the great fire. Otherwise, he would come and take you away like Christine Daae" He added tensely, fist clenching down at his side. Her shy little smile vanished as a forceful chill ran down her spine. Among his many perfections, Revion had a few tremendous flaws. His temper was a force of nature that no one wanted to deal with. It was something she had notice the more she had hung out with them while he was still going to school with her.

"What was that problem you had mentioned earlier, Revion?" Madison asked, walking towards the young lord with what she had hoped to be comforting expression on her face. He pulled out an old looking envelope from his pants pocket, handing it to her. She stared at the seal not able to breathe once again. A red wax skull grinned back at her evilly. Madison had seen it before, in Andrew Lloyd Webber's movie and it was mentioned in the book, very briefly. It was the seal of the Ghost himself. Shaking, she opened it hesitantly. What would she find in here that would worry Revion?

A small slip of paper was enclosed which she pulled out. On it, someone had written in elegant cursive. Madison tried to read the note aloud for Christine to hear, but her voice was terribly soft.

"To My New Manager,

I welcome you to the Opera L'Populaire. I do hope that you find everything to you satisfaction.

I must inform you that I require complete privacy and a monthly salary of 20,000 Euros.

I remain your faithful servant,

The Opera Ghost"

She looked up at Box five with a dazed look on her face. It was Erik, still living in the place of his torture, but how could that be possible? He would be over 100 years old, if he ever existed in the first place. He ought to be long dead. She smiled a little at the thought of meeting the malevolent Phantom. Her eyes turned their gaze, looking back at Revion.

"You should be able to pay him at least. If you have any memories of what he did the last time, the salary will need to be paid." Madison said serenely. He looked upset at the simplicity of her response. She handed the eloquent note back to Revion as she quickly walked off the stage. She was going to find the Phantom or at least his underground dwelling if it was the last thing she did.

"Madison, where are you going? Angel? MADISON!" She already knew that Revion would be mad that she had just fled his presence without a proper excuse. Screw his noble ass. This sudden development became far more interesting. Madison merely rushed past the rows of chairs to the public hallways where she would find the way to the upstairs seating. If she recalled correctly, the boxes could be reached through the main lobby. She roughly pushed open a lovely carved door to find the main foyer full of workers refurnishing small items and paintings. They paid her no attention as her feet directed her up the grand stairs. Her converse sneakers squeaked loudly as she ran up the marble steps. Avoiding the trap door in the landing, she thought hopefully that he might still be hiding in the shadows of the box. She jumped the last two stairs clumsily, nearly twisting her ankle.

"Ouch..." The girl whimpered, looking up at the curtain cover doorways that lined the elaborate hallway. Small gold plagues told of the number that corresponded with the box. Box 3 was in front of her. She had to think of which side Box 5 had been on in the theater. She decided to go to the right, hoping her logic was not wrong as it usually was. She had been right for the first time in a long time. Box 5 was where she thought it should be. Slowly she drew back the red velvet curtains which divided the balcony from the hallway to find…nothing. Revion was still on stage, yelling at someone on his walkie-talkie and Christine was dancing around unworried, inspecting the proscenium arch. She waved to her friend from the darkness with tear misting her vision as she spotted her. Revion was still arguing with someone about something, which didn't concern Madison or so she thought at that moment. A tear or two tumbled down her pale cheeks in disappointment. She was looking forward to meeting the madman genius, but perhaps this was a terrible prank to scare Revion from continuing his project. The French did have a reputation of being a vocal people when they did not agree with the current state of affairs. She sat down on the nearest chair, but sprang up quick as lightening. Something had poked her sharply in the butt. She turned to see a blood red rose placed on the chair. It had a black velvet ribbon tied around the thorn-accented stem. In her mind, Madison heard Madame Giry saying 'He is pleased with you'. Her sad smile returned as her fingers caressed the soft rose pedals.

"ANGEL! What are you doing up there? Come back and talk to me!" Lord Seymour called, but Madison ignored him as she walked back into the hall. She suddenly remembered about the underground lair. How could she have forgotten something like that? The prima donna dressing room had that secret door hidden by the mirror. It was the same mirror that the Phantom had used to seduce Christine Daae into the darkness below. That was a movie, not real life… There was no way that it actually existed.

Still Madison had to look. She would regret it later if she didn't give it a chance. She silently made her way to the cast quarters without going into the theater; she did not feel like facing Revion or Christine. They would be so pissed at her for just running off without a word of acknowledgement. Or at least he would be. Christine would find the adventure fun; she would be more disappointed that Madison hadn't brought her along for it.

Footsteps behind her nearly caught her unaware. She made up for it by ducking into a small, side room. She gently cracked the door open enough for her to see the outside hallway. Two bodyguards walked past, talking about something. They were the same ones who had been standing outside the door earlier. Revion's personal staff, most likely.

"Boss is pretty pissed off at that girl. He was going to ask her something important once he had gotten her alone in the old sleeping dorms." One of the lackeys said, his voice was rough like sandpaper against metal. The other got a funny look on his face. He replied in a suggestive voice.

"That's not all he wants to do up there. He is just itching to..." She could not hear the rest because they walked out of her hearing range. What did Revion want with her? She was almost tempted to follow them to find out, but if they caught her, that would be the end of her little mission. About five minutes passed before she left her hiding spot to continue onwards. As Madison reached the dressing room door that she hoped would lead to the two-way mirror, she heard something behind her move. She gulped as she went into the dark room without looking to see what it was. Closing the door, she faced the antique mirror, but all she saw was her reflection staring back. She stared at herself for a moment with a stern face. She forgot that she was wearing her favorite shirt. It was a black tee that Christine had given her for Christmas this last year. The front image was of a blood red rose with a black ribbon tied around it. The rose was lying on blue-ish snow. Words on the back said 'That is all I ask of you" in white cursive script and underneath that was the title 'The Phantom of the Opera'. Christine had gotten it when the touring production of the musical had come to Seattle that September. Her black pants were fading, but so were her other pants. She sighed with disapproval. She wished sometimes that she was someone else, or in a different time period where a girl did not have to be a size 2 to be accepted as one of the in-crowd. There were about six million pants sizes for her to lose before that happened, at least. Okay, maybe it wasn't that maybe… but still it was impossible.

Several minutes later, Madison was unable to get the stupid mirror to open up. She huffed, muttering about a stubborn Erik when the mirror slid open slightly. What did she do right? She shrugged carelessly, walking straight in to the passage with little thought. Rats squeaked loudly in the narrow walkway as she walked hurriedly. Ignore it. Just keep going. The small pathway opened up into wide ramps that sloped downwards towards the catacombs of the Opera House. She practically ran down each one, nearly tripping several times. Then a noise made her slow back down to a walking pace. It wasn't something that one expected to hear several subterranean floors below an opera house.

A soft neigh made her turn around quickly in search of the Phantom. She shook her head at her own stupidity, realizing that it was a horse tied to a pole farther down from where she stood. The black beast looked at Madison as she approached carefully, wary that it might be hostile. It snorted playfully then returned to eating its food. She patted the horse's flank, staring at the fresh hay piled up. Someone had been taking care of this horse with the utmost concern. Why was it down here in the first place? Not exactly the proper place to keep such a beautiful creature.

"Angel…" She muttered distracted by the thought of her dreams coming true as she turned from the horse, continuing down the slope towards the lake that was at the end of the walkway. She nudged into something. The side of a lonely boat beached on the cobblestone path. If this was here, maybe there wasn't anyone living down here. But the horse… The boat didn't look as though it had been used in a while. She lightly touched it, disappointed that it was dry. She had already come this far, no point in stopping now.

Madison struggled to push the boat into the water, but finally it was bobbing awkwardly on the water. She stepped in an attempt to find the steering pole but it was missing. The teenager sat down on the front seat, feeling scared and alone for the first time since her bold charge down. To her, everything began to seem set up for her to find my way here. Simple coincidence though. That was all. She began to hum the Phantom of the Opera song to herself to fill the void, but she started to sing it in the silence that engulfed her. Her voice echoed back, weak and timid.

_In sleep he sang to me, i__n dreams he came.  
__That voice which calls to me, a__nd speaks my name,  
__And do I dream again? __For now I find,  
__The Phantom of the Opera is there, __inside my mind._

The boat moved without anyone pushing it or anything. It moved on its own as if possessed by some unseen power. It treaded the water slowly passing stalagmites and other mysterious rock formations. Unsure what to do, Madison gripped the sides of the little vessel. The shock of it froze her in her seat. An entrancing male voice sang out from somewhere in the never-ending caverns.

_Sing once again with me o__ur strange duet.  
__My power over you g__rows stronger yet,  
__And though you turn from me t__o glance behind,  
__The Phantom of the Opera is there __inside your mind._

Madison could not finish the song; it was just too weird to hear the specter voice sing with her. She felt dizzy as the boat pulled up to a gate, which lifted up, revealing a curtain. The exact same feeling she had gotten on stage. In a split second, she jumped from the vessel. The water only came up to the top of her thighs so she really had no problem wading through. The curtain opened enough for the boat to sail through but the gate was coming down. She quickly went into the dark lair, unsure of lay before her. The boat was alone and so was the surrounding area. She waddled over to the rock landing that lead up into a weird little landing. As she climbed up on the rocks, her foot slipped causing her to fall backwards into the water. A sharp scream came from her mouth as she hit the cold water. Her black jeans were soaked through and her hair was a mess of lake sludge. Madison shuttered as she wiped the green stuff from her once silky hair. This was going to dry in and NEVER get out until she could take a shower the next morning. A shudder raced down her back. Incredibly disgusting.

The phantom's home was nothing like the one she had dreamed and drawn. It was nearly empty, only a few signs of any human life. Papers were scattered about on the floor. Drawings and scribbles, perhaps the starts of stories or operas. Most of them were crumpled up, abandoned. Picking one up, she found herself face to face with a beautiful brown haired girl, scowling slightly. Perhaps at the artist. She was dressed in a simple white shirt with her hair pulled back from her face. There was hurt, sadness and love in her eyes. Could this be Christine? Not at all what Madison had imagined. This girl wasn't as… petite as the image on her head. She was a little larger, face more rounded. Holding on to the paper, she looked around. Ah… There was an ancient-looking vanity sitting dejected against one of the walls. She set the paper down on it, looking at her own reflection in the broken mirror. Cracks spread out, creating this strange spider web. Someone had punched it in anger. Multiple pairs of brown eyes blinked back at her from the mirror fragments. Oh. There was a picture stuck under the frame of the mirror. She gingerly grabbed it, pulling it from its home to look at it. Another girl, much more like the Christine she had seen in my mind. In fact, she could have easily been Emmy Rossum's twin. That was placed next to the drawing of the other girl. Curious. Who were they? The two pictures were obviously of two different women.

She pulled open one of the drawers to find a simple pine wooden box. Madison took it out, setting it on the vanity top. She opened the lid, dying to see what was inside the box. It was lined with that same type of black velvet that was tied around her rose. At least she thought so. Set delicately on the fabric was a snow-white porcelain mask. Half-mask to be more exact, like the one that was famed to belonged to the Phantom. She picked it up tenderly with shaky hands. She placed it against her own face; the porcelain was cold against her skin. It was a centimeter too big for her face but it stayed on with the help of the black ribbons that she tied behind her head. She looked at herself in the shattered mirror smiling. She returned to looking around, find that her disappointment was slowly fading. Up several steps was a platform on which sat the infamous organ.

Madison practically flew up the little half steps, her excitement taking over. Her feet stopped short, eyes just staring in awe. A clutter of discarded music sheets littered the floor surrounding the large instrument. She walked over to it, running a finger lightly across the keys. She wondered what new masterpieces he had written in the long years spent in solitude. That is if he really is still alive. She had to keep reminding herself that this man should be dead… but the evidence was starting to discredit that sort of thought. The glint of the mask, the well-kept horse, the scraps of a lonely life scattered across a dirty floor…

A curtain on the other side of the platform had caught her eye. It was dull red color trimmed with gold tassels and a thick gold cord was triggered to pull open the curtain. She stepped over what looked like a shatter glass vase and hopped down a few steps. Her fingertips brushed over the velvet of the curtain then grasped the cord. She pulled it open to see what had been hidden. A small scream erupted from her throat as she fell back a few steps from the opening. A manikin stared back at her. Madison thought it was an actual person, a man to be more precise. It was so real looking, that's all.

The Phantom.

This had to be him. Oddly, he was exactly how Madison saw him. Handsome as sin, dressed perfectly as well. With one exception, this fake one did not wear the mask. There were no mutations to the side of his face. It bothered her more than she realized something like that would. His double wore the Don Juan costume, an arrogant expression plastered on to his face. She reached out to touch its lips but instead she grabbed the cape off with a strange feeling inside her stomach. To touch the perfect face seemed like disrespect for the real thing. Stupid, Madison knew that, but she couldn't help the feeling. She twirled around gracefully causing the cape to billow out behind her. The fabric made a wonderful swishing sound as she stopped abruptly. She felt almost invincible as she modeled the cape around the lair. It was official; she was a nerdy phan-girl. Madison hopped up a couple short steps to what looked like another public room. She was mistaken as she found the bedroom.

Most of the furniture was… well, still there. Persian style lamps hung from the ceiling. Lush rugs covered the floor. Some statue watched her move about the room, its bronzed eyes unblinking. One thing however dominated the entire space. A bed styled after a graceful swan took up most of the space. She traced the carved feathers with her hand, walking along the frame. The crushed red velvet comforter looked so alluring that she sat on the edge. It was soft, possibly filled with goose feathers.

Along one of the walls lurked a large trunk. Carved from dark wood and engraved with intricate designs. Madison went over to it, taking the mask and cape off. What would she find in there? The real Phantom's remains, maybe? He had to be dead. Whoever left the note and rose must be a modern day copycat. This lair… was like their shrine to the legendary demon. Her pulse raced with excitement. If she found a skull in there, she was taking it with her to prove to Christine that he had existed at one point.

Slowly, she lifted the lid. No skull was staring back at her, not even some ashes. Nope. Clothes. Pants and shirts, perhaps other things as well. Not like she cared to find out now. Although… dry, clean clothes would be lovely. With a disappointed sigh, she pulled one of the shirts out. It smelt nice, surprisingly. Roses and ink, strange scent but nice all the same. She yanked off her own shirt, tossing it on the floor by the trunk then put on the new one. "Huh…" It was big on her, the hem just stopping inches below her butt. "Ugh". She could feel her jeans starting to cause chafing in-between her thighs, meaning they were drying out. They too were yanked off, abandoned on the floor with her shirt. A sudden wave of fatigue hit as though she slammed in to a wall. That bed looked awfully inviting. Not like a short nap was going to hurt anyone. Twenty minutes at the most, then she would go back up to find Revion. True exhaustion sat in as she climbed under the warm sheets of the stranger's bed. Before long, she was fast asleep. Maybe a little longer than twenty minutes would be better...

* * *

_Song Credits  
__Learn to Be Lonely – Andrew Lloyd Webber & Charles Hart  
__The Phantom of the Opera – Andrew Lloyd Webber & Charles Hart_


	4. Echoes of His Own Thoughts

**Chapter 4**

_- The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration. ~ Pearl S. Buck - _

**Paris, France - December 1874**

Erik's heavy footsteps reverberated off the grim passageway walls as he stomped back down towards his place of dwelling. He had spent most of his miserable day insuring that nothing went right for anyone in the Opera House. Just little things that could be blamed on the carelessness of an assistant or two. He had been misplacing costumes pieces, a few small hand props, anything one could think of or at least he could get his hands on without being noticed. His thoughts of hatred swarmed in his deranged mind, angry furious bees stinging at his brain. He was so irritable now that he felt like hanging anyone who came close to his subterranean domain. The tension was rippling across his shoulders and down in his back. He could leave here; go somewhere else where the past did not exist. Yet, he would end up back at the opera house anyways. Its siren call was stronger than his will.

He must have been distracted thinking of ways to escape the ghosts that inhabited this ancient place because his return to his home went much faster than usual. He tossed off his dramatic cape and formal-dress jacket, letting them fall on the dirt covered floor. It wasn't like he had anyone to impress by dressing finely for. Most of his things were becoming threadbare, caked with spilt drink and ink. He unbuttoned his white undershirt to get comfortable finally. Some of the tension relieved with each piece that was loosen. The cave was too quiet as it had been for so many years. Things down here had not changed much since that day he returned to that accursed gypsy caravan that he had spent his childhood suffering in. His only reward for exacting his revenge was going to haunt him till the end of time or find the way to end it…

Turning to his plain vanity desk, Erik realized something was wrong with what he saw. Things such as pictures of Christine were rearranged on the desk as though a strong wind had blown through. One of the drawers had been pulled open and the box housing his spare mask had been taken out. The mask was gone from the silk-lined box. He growled stalking over to the organ in search of his favorite weapon, but he stopped short. His manikin had been revealed and the cape was missing from it. Someone found the lair and had been down here stealing his stuff. Blind rage filled his entire body as he grabbed his Punjab lasso from its hook on the wall. Whoever did this was going to dearly pay with their lives. A loud snoring noise came from his bed, causing him to turn around sharply. It was his unwelcome and very dead guest in his bed defenselessly asleep. Pathetic. Perhaps he would leave their mutilated body as a present for the managers on the stage; his calling card would surely be more than welcome after all this time.

Erik stopped at the end of the bed to be faced with a girl who was probably a year younger than his sweet Angel of Music. The blankets had been tossed aside, perhaps in her sleep, revealing her sprawled out sleeping position. She was dressed in something similar to what he was wearing at this very moment, without the pants. The girl in his bed looked more beautiful than Christine did during her debut, if that was possible. Her silky brown hair dipped and swirled in soft waves, spread out across his white pillows. There was something so alluring about those locks that made him want to run his hands through it, feel the strands pass through his fingers. Hold an entire fist full in his hands. Her eyes were shut tight, so he was unable to tell the color of her eyes. Erik placed a bet against himself that she had doe-brown eyes; at least it seemed the most likely option. She had his spare mask on and the missing cape, which made her look funny lying in his king-sized bed. She stirred slightly as he sat down on the edge near her. He could not bring himself to put the noose around her neck. At least not right now, maybe when she woke up. It was wrong to kill a defenseless person, especially a young woman like her. She was much different from the stick figures that inhabited the ballet corps or from his dear Christine. Her frame was much more Nordic and sturdy looking. Her chest and hips certainly were not lacking at all. The undergarment she was wearing did not help her hide the fact she was gifted in the upper region of her anatomy. It pushed the two wondrous globes up just slightly, increasing their already large size. Several of the top buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing the two slopes of pale skin. Erik's gaze rested there for a while as he felt something tighten in his body. His hands itched to reach out an caress the skin so much so that one reached out on its though, rebelling against his better judgment. It came so close to brush it. He wet his lower lip, wanting to taste it… Heat rushed to his face as he realized he was seconds away from molesting the poor girl with his lustful nature. He walked quickly away from the young woman in complete shame at his own reaction to her. He guessed that living without the loving touch of his own bride had made he a lonely man.

"I am like those disgusting old men at the opera…" Erik muttered to himself. Some married old men came just to get a glimpse up an unfortunate ballerina's tutu. There had to be something to distract him from these lecherous thoughts. He sat down on the organ bench to play the music for 'Past the Point of No Return' from Don Juan Triumphant. Well, that wasn't much better. A song about the completion of a seduction… Not the best topic for the moment, but this infernal piece was the only he had left play. His obsession with that opera was getting worse because of the fact that the performance was never completely finished. It was creating a creative block that was very distressing, indeed. He struck the first few keys carelessly, tired of hearing the same thing every night. There was no inspiration to write anything new. The old instrument sound a bit out of tune, but that was not a surprise; it had not been properly fixed for several years. Music filled the silence around him, and playing its way into the bedchamber. He became lost in the notes and the sound as the song continued on, his voice rising with each key he stuck with his long fingers.

_You have come here,  
__In pursuit of your deepest urge,  
__In pursuit of that wish which till now,  
__has been silent,  
__Silent._

_I have brought you,  
__That our passions may fuse and merge,  
__In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses,  
__Completely succumbed to me.  
__Now you are here with me,  
__No second thoughts, __You've decided,  
__Decided._

_Past the point of no return,  
__No backward glances,  
__Our games of make believe are at an end.  
_

_Past all thought of "if" or "when",  
__No use resisting,  
__Abandon thought  
__and let the dream descend._

_What raging FIRE shall flood the soul?  
__What rich desire unlocks its door?  
__What sweet seduction lies before us?_

_Past the point of no return,  
__The final threshold.  
__What warm unspoken secrets,  
__Will we learn,  
__Beyond the point of no return?_

His thoughts were so intensely focused on the creature laying in the bed, thinking about how easy it would be to seduce her. Erik's body was throbbing with lust and anger, energy welling up inside. He stopped playing abruptly as he heard scooting footsteps behind him in an attempt to flee the cavern. He knew it was the girl, but she was not going anywhere. She was not from the opera house or ballet school, so she WOULD stay with him down in the darkest pit of his personal hell. She had nowhere to hide and he was tired of losing out to other men…

_Song Credits_

_Past The Point of No Return – Andrew Lloyd Webber & Charles Hart _


	5. Illusions and Lunch

**Chapter 5**

_- Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so. ~ Douglas Adams -_

**Paris, France - December 1874**

Madison woke up from her impromptu nap that she fallen into. It took her a little while to realize that she was not in her host family's spare room or anything close to a normal human bedroom. Her brain took awhile to register that she had passed out on the bed of the malevolent phantom. She sucked in the musty air but her lungs could hardly hold any oxygen. It was though someone had punched her in the ribs. Madison tenderly touched them. Why were they sore? She scowled, adjusting the shirt she had been wearing. It had twisted around, exposing her chest to the chilly air. Her whole body was sore as though she had fallen out of the bed and then was dropped roughly back in to it. That couldn't be possible though as she wasn't the heaviest sleeper in the world. Even when she fell out of bed at home, she woke up mid-fall… The mask was still on her face, it felt heavy on her. She took it off as if it was hated creature who bitten her. It bounced as it hit the bed's surface. Its empty eyes glared at her as if she had betrayed a friend.

How long had she been asleep down here? Part of her was surprised that she didn't wake up with Revion leaning over her with a frown on his face or Christine tugging on her arm to get her up. She sat up from the bed, looking around. Something seemed somewhat different with the room around her. It was in the air rather than the composition of the room itself. Madison rubbed her face, trying to force herself just that much more awake. Time to get dressed and go find her friends. They had to be flipping out by now. Her dark eyes scanned the room for her clothes. Where did they go? She had taken them off just by the bed… yet, her jeans, shirt, socks and shoes were nowhere to be found. No way was she going to go up in to the public area in just her skivvies and this thin shirt. Madison got off the bed, scouring the floor of the room just in case she had taken them off farther away than she thought. It was when she was looking under the bed that she noticed feet. Well… wooden feet. She peeked over the top of the bed to find another manikin set up in the corner of the room. That had definitely not been there when she had fallen asleep earlier. This one was female and had the same face as the thinner girl from the two drawings she saw before. The one that she was sure was Christine Daaè.

It was dressed in an intricate gypsy dress, one that looked like it had belonged on the stage. The fabrics were much too luscious to be some commoner's outfit. It featured a beautifully constructed Victorian corset that was embellished with small crystals that caught the light just stunningly. It dipped underneath the bust which on a person would the chest lift up. The restricting device was made of a fine black raw satin, covered with a delicate black lace. Its color was tinted with something that reminded Madison of mahogany wood. There were a few clusters of cherries were tucked in the center of the corset, the color matching the large rose that was placed in the manikin's voluminous ringlets. Underneath was a white lace chemise that hung loosely on the manikin's shoulders, threatening to fall right off with the slightest touch. The top tied neatly at the middle in what looked like a rosette knot. A mustard-colored skirt was wrapped around its waist that flowed down to the dusty floor then a sheer black shawl was tied about the waist. With any luck that wrapped skirt would have enough fabric for her to make something with it as well as with that chemise. No way was Madison going to squeeze herself in to the corset or even attempt to.

The manikin looked bare with just the corset loosely tied back on it. Madison was able to wrap the yellow skirt around her hips, tucking in the white shirt and rolled up the white sleeves. She used the black shawl like a head scarf to tie her hair back out of her face. Sort of bohemian chic. Good thing she loads of clothes back at her host family's place, because skirts were just not her thing. The tinkling of some instrument made her nearly jump out of her skin. Someone else was down here. Maybe the one playing games with Revion…

Organ music filled the room with a passionate, lusty song. The same male voice she had heard earlier rose up along with each note played. It had to be the person, some traditionalist upset with the way that Revion's family was carrying out the renovations. She slowly walked from where she stood out towards the organist. Blood pounded in her head as she tried to walk without making noise. Last thing she wanted was to stop him from playing that music. The man at the organ was singing in a wonderfully enticing voice sending chills down her spine. Something in the tone was so wanting, so needing of another. It called out to her as if to draw her closer in to the spider's web. This man wasn't someone that she recognized nor did he sound like anyone she knew. He sat unaware she was walking behind him; she snuck past with the hope that he would not turn to look at her. Stronger urges to sing fill her head, No, She must not… She had become so wrapped up in her thoughts that she barely heard the music stop or the quick steps that came up behind her. Cold, icy hand grabbed her waist tightly stopping her descent down towards the water's edge.

"It is rude to intrude into a person's home without introducing yourself first." Her captor whispered in her ear softly. His breath was warm on the side of her face. She struggled against him, but the stranger held on tighter to her. Both hands were like vices, digging deep in to her flesh.

"You are going to give me a huge bruise, sir. Please let me go!" Madison pleaded; his fingers were beginning to hurt worse. The man grabbed her wrist in order to grab something behind him. She turned to see whom it was that held her so fiercely. There was the man who she had admired from a distance. He wore a simple, open white shirt and slightly tented formal pants. She couldn't help but sort of stare at his groin like some weird spectator. His face was directed the other way from her but she knew he had the half mask covering the deformed side of his face. Hidden by near absolute terror, she was actually sort of excited to meet the Phantom, so it was no shock that she felt butterflies at his touch. He faced her with a look of gentleness that nearly instantly changed to pure anger. Well, perhaps not anger. Just pure aggressiveness. Something that smashed the butterflies and fan-girl nature, replacing all of it with fear.

"Don't look at me like that…"The Phantom ordered as he bound her hands behind her back with some rope. His voice was nothing like she had heard before. If he wasn't being so overly rough with her at the moment, she would have done anything he told her. His voice humming about her, making the very air tingle. The taunt cords scraped crossed her wrists, scratching her skin as he pulled her towards the vanity chair. He pushed her down on the soft cushion with an odd noise that must have been a growl. Madison tried to stuff her fear down and act as though it didn't exist in any fashion. She sat perfectly still, nearly forgetting how to breathe for a moment. Phantom plopped down on his organ bench, just staring at her. Finally, he spoke in a fiercely demanding voice making the girl jump.

"How did you get in here exactly? Who are you? Where do you come from? Where did you get those clothes?" The anger flared in his voice and eyes with that last question. That was the sort of thing she had been expecting. She fidgeted a bit before answering in what she hoped sounded like a confident tone.

"I came through the mirror in that dressing room and walked. The lake water is really digusting. You ought to do something about that. My name is Madison DeLogio and I am hungry! And I got these clothes from that room. Mine were ruined by the filthy water which I might add have gone missing apparently." She made a face at the sulking man who ignored her passive request for food.

"The mirror? They didn't seal that up, huh? Interesting…" He said turning his amber gaze towards the boat anchored at the edge of the murky water. She twisted her hands to reach her pocket before remembering that she did not have her jeans on. The Phantom returned his attention towards Madison. He growled again, standing up from his organ. Her body reacted oddly to that, wanting him to do it again, but much closer to her.

"What is your name? On the other hand, shall I just go on calling you the Phantom the whole time you have me locked up down here. And I am hungry! Do you have any pop-tarts?" She asked of him as he walked by without an awkward glance from his amber-colored eyes.

"Pop-tarts..."

"Yes, pop-tarts! You know, put them in the toaster and eat them…Do you have any?"

"…"

"Oh, come on! I am hungry. All I ate today was a sandwich at the museum."

"…Good Evening, Miss DeLogio." The Phantom disappeared into the bedchamber. All the candles, save one, blew out as if by some invisible specter. Just enough light to find a knife or something to cut the ropes.

Madison sat, waiting for some sign that the man had fallen asleep. Time past slowly but there was nothing. Assuming the psychopath in the other room was in fact asleep, she began to scoot the chair forward in search of a sharp object. A sharp sliver glint caught her eye as she came near the ash-covered table. Sadly, the chair was stuck on a ledge, causing it to fall over. She landed on her knees with a sick crack, yet no pain came rushing form her legs. The chair broke into pieces, losing her bounds as the result of a busted up chair. Madison shook the ropes off, grabbing the knife off the table. She attached it around her waist while thinking one thing over and over, she had to get out of here as soon as possible before the almightily crazed one woke up from his sleep. She grabbed the cape lying on the floor as a parting thought, latching it around her shoulders.

"Boat or walk…Walk" Madison jumped in the cold, misty water. The skirt would dry out as would the cape eventually but Crazy would know she escaped back out to the opera house if the boat was gone. Running as fast as she could without making noise, she asked herself a good question, How is Christine holding up?

**Paris, France – December, Present Day**

It had been at least an hour since Christine last saw Madison waving to her from the theater box with something in her hand. Revion's bodyguards were bullying around Christine as he conducted search for their dear friend in the massive Opera House. She had to admit that she felt bad for Madison who was the 'good friend' of this unbearable fop. He reminded her of a more violent version of Raoul from Madison's absolute favorite book, musical and movie, Phantom of the Opera. Christine's thoughts turned towards the States and the story of how the pair of them had (unfortunately) met Revion on their first day of high school.

The day was like any other first day of the hell called High School. Washington State weather was as weird as ever. It had been bright and sunny during the long morning of lost students trying to find classes in the panic of the bell system. Fourth Period, Christine had just sat down in her First Year French class when one of her best friends came bursting through the door right as the tardy bell blared out. Madison smiled as she sat awkwardly next to Christine. She looked different but before Christine could ask what was up, the door opened by one of the various vice-principles. She smiled weakly at the new students as she quickly conversed with their teacher, Miss Atikn. The Frenchwoman smiled brightly, turning to the class.

"Bonjour les étudiants. Je m'appelle Mademoiselle Atikn. I am very glad you all made it roughly on time," The young teacher glanced at Madison who was staring at the door intensely. "We have the honored privilege of a brand new student from London, England. For those who are more interested in the royals, his name will be a little familiar to you. I present to you, Lord Revion Seymour." She said in her annoyingly peppy French accent. Christine watched as a tall, good-looking young man came in with a smirk cross his face. He had an arrogant air about him for one who just jumped headfirst into the world of public schools. Others were clapping enthusiastically as he stood in front of the room. Several of the girls were hyperventilating in shock. She leaned over to Madison, keeping an eye on Revion.

"Bet you five buck he pees his I-am-better-than-you-and-richer pants before the day is through..." Madison giggled a little before the two of them sat up straight. Atikn was directing the foreign boy to a seat in front of Madison. A flat thud came from his pack as he sat down in the desk. He turned to the pair with that smile which made Madison blush brightly.

"Good day Mademoiselle, I'm Revion. What are your names?" He asked in a smooth, posh British accent. Madison muttered her name shyly as Christine said her's in a flat tone. He flashed his bright smile at Madison who was blushing. She was like putty in front of any cute boy, no matter how long she knew him. (Lucky for them, that changed to only applying to Revion and her boyfriend… ex-boyfriend). After a long boring introduction, lunch was signaled by the loud bell. The class was empty before Atikn had a chance to say another word. Christine pulled Madison over to a table full of her friends from church. Laughter and shouts soon came from the rowdy table. One of the boys pulled out a light saber, acting as if he were Anakin Skywalker in the dark third episode. Louder shouts and screams soon cut off the merry group's fun. She looked in disgust as Seymour made his way through the cafeteria followed by a large mob of groupies. He must have spotted Madison in her bright pink jacket from the other side of the room. The fop pushed his way to the table as Christine picked all her stuff up to leave. Madison would follow, hopefully ditching Mr. Proper to wallow in the mass of fawning fans. She did thankfully follow without a word of complainant.

The best friends sat on one of the steep hills on the school campus, talking about random things from the previous summer, when the King Fop of all fops came outside from the commons. Christine rolled to the bottom of the hill out of fops' sight. She motioned for Madison to come join her at the bottom. She rolled down, giggling like a bloody loon on a sugar high. She crashed into Christine and they burst out laughing so hard that Madison started snorting. That just made Christine laugh even harder to the point she could not breathe. The Fop King appeared at the top of the hill staring down at the two girls.

"Girls are so odd…especially you cute foreign ones!" He walked down to where they were laying and the rest was history. Revion was always there at parties, hanging out at Madison's house, and being generally extremely clingy to Madison. Christine thought it was odd for such a high-class, cute boy to be hanging out with them, the ones who are not a part of any real clique. Even odder that he lavished such attention on to Madison when there were other girls just throwing themselves at his feet to be noticed. It was disturbing but she never mentioned anything to Madison. She was happy for once, was Christine supposed to destroy her friend's joy because she did not like this person in any respect?

Christine's mind was brought sharply back to the present as a stinging pain spread across her face. She realized she was on the floor with the bodyguard standing over me. What in the world just happened? Revion was seething as he glared at her. If looks could kill, she would be in a million pieces, burned and buried…

"I will ask you again. Where is Madison?"


	6. Hard to Comprehend

**Chapter 6**

_- What makes the universe so hard to comprehend is that there's nothing to compare it with. ~ Unknown - _

**Paris, France - December 1874**

Madison stood panting behind the trick mirror, waiting for whoever was in the room to leave. She was completely soaked. The underground lake was much deeper then she remembered it being. The poor girl was perhaps one of the weakest swimmers ever and deep dark water was the worst sort of obstacle for her to face. It was a lot of flailing around in a weird attempt to dog paddle across the water to towards the other dock. After nearly drowning, she reached a bit of the tunnels that were somewhat shallow. Madison pushed through till the water was to about her waist which was near the opposite dock. The one that she first stood on or at least she thought it was. The horse was nowhere in sight nor were there any signs of one existing there. Had she imagined that bit? Her limbs had felt heavy as she hurried towards the spot where she stood now.

A deep seated growl from the darkest depths within the catacombs rumbled up making Madison jump. That man discovered her neat little disappearing act had been uncovered, and probably rushing to catch her up again. Madison felt around the mirrored door for some sort of catch to open the door. Her fingers bumped in to something cold, causing her hand to jerk back for a moment. Ah, there it was. It was a latch that seemed to be attached to a trip wire or something. Voices from the room were fading away as she undid the latch and pushed open the hidden door. She faced with a completely different room. The walls were newly wallpapered with a horrendous shade of pink flowers, furniture was replaced, and everything looked brand new. It was shocking, especially that color. Who in the world would choose something like that? Madison stared in wonder before hearing the Phantom's angry footsteps accompanied by the same throaty growling she had heard in the passageway. This could not be the same place she had entered earlier, but she was also sure that she had taken the exact same path as before. Where was she? Was this a part that was finished with renovations that Revion was doing?

She bolted from the room, taking a sharp right turn towards where she hoped the stage was. She veered around some odd bits of what looked like scenery. This had to be a part of the theater that Revion hadn't gotten around to showing her and Christine earlier. Voices began to pick up in volume, which had to be the direction of the stage. She stopped as the talking was just a few feet around another hall. As Madison peered around the corner, she wasn't quite prepared to see people standing around with sheet music in their hands. There was no way she had been sleeping for that long. Was it a private costume party that Revion was hosting? It looked as though everyone stepped out some Victorian period piece. How long had she been out down there? She couldn't wait to find Revion and tell him about her encounter with the 'phantom' who had to be some sort of mental ward escapee. There was no way that he was the real article, absolutely no way. Madison stepped into the end of what seemed like a line-up of what she thought were party goers. Maybe these were auditions..? Nah, it had to be call-backs of some sort, some weird costumed call-backs. A young man walked up to her with a notepad in his hands. He looked her up and down with an annoying grin on his face. He asked her for her name, if she attended any school of music or ballet, and her age. Madison was curious as to why the boy hadn't asked about her home address or contact number as those were typical pieces of information.

"What song will you be singing?"

"I am not…," Madison stopped herself. Singing? She didn't sing, not for real any way. But the number of people around her would surely stop any sort of retribution from the man she had just escaped from and Revion was bound to be out in the audience. He would think it was a real laugh if she came out on stage in the shamble of an outfit and tried to honk out some tune.

"Uh, Blue Wind from Spring Awakening." He paused a moment before nodding slowly with a confused look on his face, wrote something down on his little pad then ran off. That show was a fairly mainstream one and the music was fairly well known if one was in the show business loop, so why did he look at her like she was a mental case?

"It has been almost three full years since that thing showed his death's head around here."

The people in front of her were talking about something that remotely sounded like the phantom. Three years? Madison stepped closer in order to eavesdrop better on the conversation. One of the men laughed haughtily, waving his hand.

"That 'ghost' doesn't scare me. This is 1874! He is dead, and the Opera House is finally at peace. And that is all we are going to say about it." His companions nodded, unconvinced by their leader's confident speech. Madison stood motionless, frozen to the spot. The line moved up a good two feet or so before the person behind her gave the girl a not-so-gentle shove forward. It was 1874, almost 131 years before the time where Christine and she stood on the stage. Madison had not been thought of yet, nor had her parents. How was that even possible? No, no, she had just completely misunderstood. Her mind could not register what had been said. It was though the notion of something so extreme like that broke her mind for a few moments. Soon, it was her turn to sing on stage for whoever was out there. Her bare feet made small noises as she walked to the center of the vast stage. Several people sat in the front row; two held what look like primitive clipboards while the others talked. All she could hear was the nervous roar in her ears and the padding of her feet hitting the bare stage. One of the two men stood up and introduced himself as Firmin Richard. She could not focus on him, trying to find Revion. This all had to be some really weird, cruel joke.

"Correct me if I am wrong, you are Madison DeLogio singing 'Blue Wind'. Could you inform us all what this… selection is taken from? I am afraid no one on our panel is familiar with it" M. Richard raised an eyebrow at her as did a few others. There was no Revion among the very small crowd of faces. Before she could answer, M. Richard told her to start whenever she was ready. Madison just nodded her head slowly. She scooted closer to the edge as to allow her stomach to settle some before she sang.

_Spring and summer, every other day_

_Blue wind gets so sad_

_Blowing through the thick corn,_

_Through the bales of hay,_

_Through the open books on the grass,_

_Spring and summer._

_Sure, when it's autumn,_

_Wind always wants to_

_Creep up and haunt you_

_Whistlin', it's got you_

_With its heartache, with its sorrow_

_Winter wind sings and it cries_

_Spring and summer every other day_

_Blue wind gets so pained_

_Blowing the thick corn,_

_Through the bales of hay,_

_Through the sudden drift of the rain,_

_Spring and summer._

_Spring and summer every other day_

_Blue wind gets so lost_

_Blowin' through the thick corn,_

_Through the bales of hay_

_Spring and summer every other day_

_Blue wind gets so lost_

_Blowin' through the thick corn,_

_Through the bales of hay,_

_Through the wandering clouds of the dust_

_Spring and summer…_

Silence fell on the entire theater as Madison finished the song. She had sort of lost herself in the words, moving her hands and swaying some as the song went on. That must have looked totally insane. Moments past by, still quiet hung about the air. Tears stung her eyes. Was she that bad? She stood there trying not to let herself cry in front of these people. She was never singing again, ever. M. Richard finally stood up from his seat, clapping. The others clapped along, smiles spread across their faces.

"Well… I think it is unanimous. Welcome to the Opera family, Mademoiselle DeLogio. I like to introduce Monsieur Gilles Moncharmin, my co-manager here at the opera. Our patrons, the Comte de Chagny and his wife, Christine. I do believe that Christine would be willing to give you voice lessons to smooth over those rough spots and perhaps extend your range even farther. Our chorus is in need of some mezzo sopranos." The beautiful woman smiled brightly and started to speak to Madison who had no idea what was being said. Her whole world sort of went mute. It was Christine… The one from the sketches and the manikin, the real flesh and blood thing. Christine just smiled bright as Comte agreed with something. She stared at the titled couple for a few more seconds as M. Richard escorted her off the stage. It was really them, the couple that the whole phantom incident revolved around. She couldn't manage to tear her eyes away. This meant that man… the man in the cold, lifeless depths was the real phantom of the opera, the genuine article. The older man explained where she would find the dormitories and mess hall, pointing her to continue on. With a brief adieu, he returned to the theater while Madison continued down the dark hall towards her new room. The girl took a few steps forward then stopped to look around. She was in Opera l'Populaire during the year 1874. Beside the fact that she was not even in her correct timeline and been held captive by the fearsome Phantom, could things get any worse?

How did that bizarre chorus girl escape from the cave? Sleep had taken Erik only for an hour or so. She was gone by the time he woke up from the torment of his nightmares. The same ones as every night before, the one in which he wasn't able to escape from the burning opera house in time and suffered being burned alive. Ha, if that was all it took to kill him. Still the sensation of the suffocating smoke and searing flesh was enough to shock him in to waking. Erik had lept from the bed in a cold sweat, shaking as usual. He pulled in the dark green dressing jacket as he stepped out in to the main room. The phantom was greeted with the sight of a splintered chair and an absent captive. Her bonds were piled atop the remains of the chair. How in the world had she broken his chair? His fury boiled over as he roared with an odd jealously towards her apparent cleverness. It had been his only good chair besides the organ bench. A good one that he had taken from the scenic storage, but now just lay on the floor in shambles. She had left the boat behind, so the clothes she wore would leave a telltale trail of water droplets. He quickly rushed to the surface of his underground empire, not bothering to change his clothing or take the water passage. He had other ways to reach the surface rooms that didn't go through the lead dressing room. The Opera House was full of new people auditioning for Faust, the Opera House's new production. His journey to the ropes and pulleys of the high catwalks went unnoticed by those below. Erik frantically searched for his little fugitive among the crowd. He found her at the front of the audition line… interesting how incredibly confused and upset she looked.

She was being directed to the center of the stage to sing. Her tentiveness was endearing but not enough to quell the simmering rage that was bubbling under the surface. He listened patiently to her rich voice. It was not an opera voice, at least not yet. There were a few rough spots, like the high notes, transitioning between notes and her breathing technique. This girl had the chance to be better then Christine Daae, with his expert instruction of course. Not as a soprano, it didn't suit her but as something else, something that spoke of earth. Earth? What was he thinking, Earth? It did seem opposite of Christine who always reminded him of something light and airy.

Speaking of the woman, the traitor was seated in the front row with her dear Comte. Vomit filled his already dried throat as she glanced upwards to where he was standing. Erik was nearly certain that the young noble didn't notice him but she was staring for far too long for his comfort. Christine looked away as her husband touched her arm, leaning over to whisper in her ear. He exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. She could have been his but his guilt was too great at the thought of ripping the girl apart. Besides, there were rumors that Christine was with a child. Madison, that was her name, had finished her song. She was received praise from those watching in the audience. The bumbling managers suggested that Christine give her private lessons every week before shooing the girl on her way off the stage.

Monsieur Richard was now leading Madison to the singer dorm rooms. Christine, though, planted a gentle kiss on her dear husband's forehead before departing the auditorium. Erik swept from the theater catwalks in a swirl of dressing jacket, striding across the shadows. He could care less about what the Comtesse did with her meaningless life. His new vict… student was all that mattered.

He scampered along the wooden planks chasing after his little mockingbird. Mockingbird was right for her. The girl was an imitator of his angel and himself in a way. She had worn his clothes and slept in his bed and even seemed to be of some intelligence. His pace slowed as he now stood right above her head. Madison was alone now, a perfect time to jump down from his perch. Why he didn't…. Erik would never quite understand. She was sauntering along the passageway, singing a song that made his blood run cold. The girl danced awkwardly as she went; there was no real pattern to her steps or any amount of grace for that matter. That would have to be worked on as well.

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication._

_Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation._

_Let the dream begin;_

_let your darker side give in, to the power of the music that I write._

_The power of the music of the night._

How did she know those secret words? Words that were desires whispered in to the dark, never to be spoken again. The song that was shared between Christine and him when Erik tried to seduce her into the night. He shimmied down a rope hanging from the nearest pulley. His black boots barely touched the ground as he ran after the girl. She closed the door to the empty dormitory as Erik reached for the handle, pausing. Slipping his master key out of his pocket, He tried to lock the door as quietly as possible so that the girl in the room would not hear the noise. He hid the brass object back into his pocket, prepping to extract his intended prey out of the room. A voice of an old friend stopped Erik from acting any farther.

"Erik!" The voice was shocked, somewhat horrified. "What are you doing here? What do you think you are doing?" Madame Giry stood in the shadows, her gray eyes staring the Phantom down viciously. They asked what she did not. Why was he in the opera house? Why was he putting them all in danger's way once again? Erik glared at her before he spoke in some fashion that resembled being calm. Those accusing probing eyes of Giry's always unnerved him and made him all the more irritated.

"As for what I am doing here, I have nowhere else to go. Nadir offered to take me in, but I declined for the sake of our friendship. Besides, his cooking leaves much to be desired. As for what I think am I doing, this girl needs a tutor. Not just any tutor, my tutoring. More than Christine ever did." His eyes refocused themselves on the door. Erik leaned down to peer through the keyhole to see if she was in view.

"Christine will be teac…" Giry was being something of an annoyance to Erik, which wasn't normal for her to do. Usually she would have slipped away by now, letting him carry on as he wished. He frowned, hand posed to do something if need be. Unlock the door and dash in, something to stop Giry from interfering with his rash plans.

"Christine! That whore knows nothing…" His voice was a growl, not unlike that of a cornered dog. Erik shocked himself as well as Madame Giry. She frowned as she spoke.

"You…. You… Do not let this get too far." The ballet master turned from him, storming off in the direction of the ballet rehearsal halls. Let her be mad and have her little fit. It was him that ought to be angry considering it was Giry that led that boy down in to the under levels of the opera that night. Erik drew himself up to his full height, breathing in deeply. That was past and this was present.

"Where do you think you're going little mockingbird? You are to remain in your dark cage till I deicide you can come forth to sing!" He demanded from behind the door. A solitary shriek informed him the girl was alone amidst beds of singers like her. His feet led him to a door that was an entrance to the singer dormitories as well. Sneaking in was easy, thankfully Madison was facing the main door. She was shaking as she reached for the door to find it tragically locked. The brass handle did not give as she jiggled it uselessly. Her whimpers drowned out his footsteps as he came closer. He grabbed her viciously around the waist, covering her loud sobs with his other hand. Madison struggled as a little bird caught in a malignant cat's claw. Her body felt warm next to his which always felt cooler than most humans. She went rigid as his breath breezed over her pale, soft cheek.

In the stillness of the moment, Erik got excited. His mouth found its way to her skin. Madison gasped a little for air as he let himself lightly kiss her shoulder, and then bite her flesh. He pulled back, looking at the bruise he left. Before he could continue punishing his student, the door we stood in front of them made a clicking noise. He pulled Madison into the dark shadows as the door flew open. The graceful Comtesse came in with a puzzled expression on her angelic face. She looked around the dim room in a fruitless attempt to locate something. Christine held in her hand a key that suspiciously looked like Madame Giry's master dorm key. Damn that woman…

"Mademoiselle DeLogio, are you here? Madame Giry said you had some interesting company but I must talk to you. It is quite urgent." Her voice could probably still make angels cry, but it made his little bird call out quite suddenly. The fallen angel looked directly at them in horror. Erik took that as his cue to step out into the light cast by the hallway torches. Her kind eyes grew wide with shock.

"What did you need to tell this girl?" His voice was rough with rage.

"To compliment her and warn her…"

"…of?"

"You. Angel, I..." Christine walked towards them, eyes locked with Erik.

"Not another step or this little bird's innocence is mine…"


	7. Stone Walls and Iron Bars

**Chapter 7**

_-__Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.__ ~ Unknown - _

**Paris, France - December 1874 **

His touch was intoxicating, sending almost electric pulses down her spine. The man's voice was enough to make Madison faint in his grasp. Yet, the underlying tone of pure hate in his voice scared the hell out of her. It sounded as if he was ready to kill Christine who was standing before them, looking rather confused at the moment. The phantom's existence must be something unknown to the occupants of the opera house. That was sort of interesting, but it made sense considering how those men in line were talking. Madison struggled against him as Erik dragged her across the room. Christine started after them but must have remembered the sordid threat the Phantom had spat at her.

"Not a word to anyone, understood? You must forget everything you just saw here. There is no one in this room… There never was." He said, pulling Madison into the darkness of a hidden trapdoor as the Comtesse turned around as if in a trance. She shrugged, leaving the room quickly. It was like watching the Jedi mind trick actually work in real life. Instead of making her geek out, Madison was just scared by it. What could he get her to do? She ought to be comforted by the idea that it probably took time to build up that sort of influence, but it didn't change how helpless she felt.

Madison's initial descent into the underground was now made again in violent haste. What was happening? Her terrified sobs echoed about the stony walls without a word of comfort from her captor or at least a lecture of some sort. He placed her in the sleek black boat. She stood up to jump, but the rocking made her fall backwards on the cushioned seat. A sinister chuckle sent shivers down her spine as the vessel glided on the glossy water. Silence was all around, but a small steady noise made her nervous. She soon realized it was her own ragged breathe, finally slowing down after the shock of the second attack. It had been such a fierce violence; she hadn't realized the power that lay in this man. The craft bumped against the dock, same one she had fallen off earlier. Water slapped against the side angrily, reflecting the aura radiating off of the phantom.

By some unseen force, Madison found herself standing by the organ. Had she passed out once they reached the dock? She had no memory of if she walked or if the Shadow carried her to this spot. Her blurry vision cleared slightly as she staggered towards the table. Oddly, she walked right into something that blocked her path. It wobbled as she took several steps backward. Her brain blanked somewhat as she watched the image of lair trembled then settled back to stillness. A sick realization settled in her mind. She had been put in the torture chamber and the Phantom changed the scene to make it a prison for her.

"Don't you think the African forest would be enough?" She called out to the Ghost with no reply. It would have been. At least she wouldn't have felt as though there was hope for escape. She slammed her fists against one of the mirrors, crying out in rage and fear. Her hands did nothing as the mirrored walls refused to give. The young American smacked her back against one, letting herself slump down on to the floor. How did she even get in this position? All she had wanted to do was explore the opera house. Find the reality behind the legend of the phantom, like so many other things. Madison was just expecting a ghost hunt, maybe a few little whispers. Not to be sucked back to some strange time period without a friend to be by her side. She just wanted to home in Washington, in her warm bed tucked under her pile of blankets. Not here. Not with that… monster of a man. She was sure Revion and Christine must have called the police by now. "Why me?"

"You invaded my privacy. That is why." The dark, growling voice shocked her again, coming from directly crossed the chamber. Her reddened eyes focused on the Phantom who stood glaring down at her. His amber eyes had the flames of hell burning in them yet there something soft lying behind the intensity. Madison wanted to disappear in to the floor. Maybe this was a terrible nightmare, one she would wake up from. Oh hell, how she wanted him to stop staring at her like that. It was at that moment she remembered taking the knife from the lair earlier. She pulled out of its hiding place and threw it at the Phantom with everything she had. It smashed in to the mirror; the image disappeared with a dark laugh. Footsteps and the near silent shutting of a door revealed that he had stepped out of the chamber.

Madison stood up from her place of sulking to go pick up the knife before it was taken away. Her whole bode felt weak and limp, exhausted from her extreme emotions. The knife felt like a boulder in her hand, making her drop her hand to her side. She should curl up in a corner and sleep then try to find a way out. However, the Phantom was distracted elsewhere in his cave. This would be the best time to try at the very least.

She inspected the mirror to see if she had done any damage to it. There was a small thin crack spider webbing from the point that knife had made contact with the glass. Not enough to see through, but the line was still there. If enough force was applied, it may shatter the rest of the way. Her knuckles smacked against the hard surface, pain spreading up her arm. She kicked out at the already weakened spot, anger powering her motions blindly. The crack grew but the mirror stayed intact. Madison looked at the dagger, gripping in the palm of her hand. With one swift motion she brought it up then straight down at the center of the crack. The reflecting glass shattered to the ground, as rain drops to the dry earth. Shards of sharp glass ripped at her feet as she rushed through the dark portal. The sound of a door opening startled her into a corner, making herself as small as possible. He was back to torture her some more. A shadowy form stood in the doorway, which was to the left of her poor hiding place.

"Look closer, little bird. You can see the iron bars that hold you in your cage." Finally, there was the voice of the Phantom who was pulling various levers that were on the wall as he spoke. He must not have seen the broken mirror or Madison cowering in the corner. Maybe if she just stayed here, waited for his teasing to be done she could just… A sharp crack interrupted her desperately hopeful thinking. The Phantom had stepped on a bunch of broken glass with an intense scowl on his handsome face.

"Ah, my little bird has flown away once again… but she is still in this very room." He turned himself in her direction, staring into the shadows at her trembling figure. His fiery eyes seemed to burn through her precious soul, like the flames of hell. An intensely evil grin played at the edge of his terrifying mouth. It was as if he could smell her fear and horror like a dog. Madison madly dashed for the door, but she was not quick enough for she felt death's talons upon her, gripping into her skin.

"Now, now… We cannot have you running amuck in the Opera House, can we? No, I have special plans for you little songbird." She tried to pull the knife on him, but the Phantom knocked it from her hands. The gleaming weapon was securely in his hands and disappeared on to his person. A tutting sound came from him as he pushed her into another room. Madison was now truly his captive… and she wasn't going to make anything easy for him.

**Paris, France - December 1874 – New Year's Eve**

With the sudden disappearance of the newest chorus girl, Monsieur Moncharmin and Monsieur Richard became anxious with the decision to keep running the production of Faust (which went smashingly well without a whiff of a scandal). Was it a sign that the Phantom had returned? Was someone just trying to ruin them? Was it another opera company steal away their talent with better contract offers? Their good patron, Comte de Chagny, waved it away as nerves on the singer's part. She didn't seem like a stable, well-versed person anyways. Rumors were that the phantom had been shot in the streets by one of the officers guarding the opera the night that it went up in flames. It was supposedly as the monster tried to flee so it had nothing to do with that. His wife was visibly miserable at the mention of Mlle. DeLogio though. She couldn't explain why she was so upset, but tears welled up in her big eyes and Raoul stared down who ever had brought the subject up with such venom that it was never mentioned in their presence again. It wasn't healthy for their unborn son for his mother to get so distressed over some flakey chorus girl. Thankfully, the accident was forgotten with the arrival of New Year's Masquerade Ball almost three weeks later.

Opera L' Populaire was exceedingly beautiful against the backdrop of vivid fireworks exploding in the night's sky all across Paris. Each one lit the white stone of the building, splashing color across the blank canvas. Purples, reds, blues all mixed to create a beautiful mural of rainbow marble accented by the many golden statues. Inside, glorious gold decorations adored the grand entrance foyer. Large floral arrangements complimented with oversized ostrich feathers were planted everywhere. High-classed quests poured in, all dressed in black, gold, and white eveningwear which was accented in order to become proper costumes. Comte Raoul de Chagny was dressed as a black ram. He wore a black military uniform with a pair of golden curled horns affixed to his head with a band. He was strutting proudly, standing out among the crowd of others. It didn't hurt his confidence with his lovely wife at his arm nor lose him the gaze of the crowd. The Comtesse Christine de Chagny was in a long flowing black empire waist dress, looking like an elegant butterfly. She had a pair of small wings that fluttered slightly each time she took a step. The noble couple walked in along with a large crowd of others who gave them a bubble of space to walk. Both had smiles on their faces as they lead a young man of 16 years behind them. He was rather dashing vision in gray and black, in fact he was an almost exact copy of the Comte. A lavish black mask that stopped short of his pouty mouth hid his face.

"Why do I have to be here? I hate being paraded around like a show dog!" His voice was relatively deep but still very young. Raoul rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to speak but was interrupted by an older male voice.

"Ah, the Count de Chagny," Monsieur Richard stood with his escort and a young man who the Comte's brother recognized as one of the stagehands. "I like to introduce you to the lovely La Brittany and my adopted son." The two bowed respectfully to Raoul and his family, before the boy darted away from his father. The manger seem to have thought about chasing after him, but then decided against it.

"Firmin, you know my wife Christine of course. This is my younger brother, Vicomte Philibert Gabriel Mercier de Chagny the Second." The sulking lad huffed at his illustrious title. Firmin Richard bowed ever so graciously and then walked over to mingle with the many other rich guests that filled the foyer. Ones that after a few spirited drinks would be more than lighten their pocketbooks in the name of art. Christine placed a black-gloved hand on Philibert's thin shoulder.

"I hate this… I really do, Christine." He pouted as his sister-in-law pushed him out of the doorway, in to the crowd. His attitude only worsened as what seemed like herds of guests came up quickly to make unnecessary introductions to the young vicomte and his guardians. These were the same people at the same parties that they went to every week, or so it seemed. Yet, somehow, these introductions were necessary each time. It was like they had the brain power of a fly and could never remember who they had met the day before.

"This is important to your brother and me, but we do want to you to have fun as well." The ex-opera diva said calmly, her hand gently squeezing his shoulder. Philibert growled lowly, tensing up under her hand. He found his sister-in-law to be a vapid creature at times, sweet but a little naïve. Didn't she realize half of these people would have never talked to her if she still was just a chorus girl, dancing and singing for their amusement? It only served to irk him more. The people on the stage deserved more attention for their work, the ones with talent anyways. He was left to stew in his aggravated thoughts while the Opera House orchestra struck up a sweet waltz. Raoul whisked Christine away to dance among the swirls of color. Philibert leaned himself against a nearby column, watching as they twirled to the music with eased grace only fitting for people of their class. It was entrancing the way they moved, like gliding like a pair of skaters across new fresh ice. Phil couldn't help but notice the rather wide berth that others were now giving him. Fine with him.

Merry laughter and dancing continued for quite some time. Music pouring out from the building and spilling out into the surrounding streets, serenading those were enjoying the night's fireworks. All those invited to the lavish event were present allowing for a few of the door attendants snuck off to a backstage party where the ambiance was a little less polished. More folk music with stronger spirits flowing about. Security was fiercely lacking as the night continued to saunter on with the attention on the dancers, allowing two more uninvited guests to slip in. The only person to witness them enter was Philibert who found himself unable to look away.

He watched as elegant young women dressed in black came to a slow stop next to him. The hem of her skirts swirled around her feet, settling gracefully in rippling folds. The movement of it was so intriguing for a moment. The fabric flowed almost like water in a stream. He wanted to reach out and cause the fabric to move again just to see it settle. Philibert's steely gray eyes looked the girl up and down, more than just interested in the stranger. Her mask was comprised of swirls that swooped around her eyes and down towards her jaw. The dress was something reminiscent of the Napoleon period with its empire waist and scooped necklace. It looked incredibly familiar to the young opera patron who thought it was possibly the twin to a costume that was feature in an opera the Vicomte had recently attended. Her arm was linked up with a masked man whom the Vicomte assumed was her father. The tall man had insane-looking amber eyes that stared out of a black mask that concealed the entirety of his face, adding to his menacing appearance. The mask itself looked like something out of a nightmare, all twisted and grotesque. His clothes reflected well the fashion of the time, perhaps even setting something of a new trend. An impeccably tailored suit with the slightest hints of gold in the buttons. The young woman looked like a goddess in black, a perfect companion to the man. He was the fire and brimstone demon to her serene, elegant divinity. The energy between them was palpable, almost tangible. The air around them sparked with emotion that the young man could not find a word to describe. Philibert watched curiously as the pair exchanged looks of what seemed like anxiety on her part and arrogance on his as the two joined the dancers.

The fascinating girl waltzed around with the frightening man; the power of one over the other was becoming apparent with each step. Others pointed and whispered as the two took the center of the floor. They were in perfect sync, no words were exchanged between them, but they moved as if one. It was captivating to watch as the crowd fell away to give them full attention. Philibert had almost forgotten how to breathe while watching them. His own thoughts were prodding him to step in and dance with her, to glide across the floor with ease that they did. However, the spell was instantly broken when his damned sister-in-law grabbed the young lady by the shoulder. Everyone else returned to their own conservations, ignoring the event that just took place in the middle of the floor and quickly easing back in to mindless conversation. Other dancers filled the gap that had been created, blocking off Philibert's view.

"Mademoiselle DeLogio!" The Comtesse exclaimed as the young singer removed the black mask that was hiding a small portion of her face. Philibert pushed his way through the crowd that was gathering around him again to reach his family. He had to know who in the world those two people were and how the hell Christine knew the girl. Anger flashed in the pit of his stomach at the way the man was glaring down his brother who was more focused on the girl.

"Where have you been all this time? Who was that in the bunking room? Was that the Phantom? What is…?" Madison silenced Christine by lightly placing her finger delicately on her own lips. The younger singer just smiled brightly at the Comtesse and the Comte.

"Who is the Phantom? That insane man from the infamous accident a few years ago? No, I left in a bit of a fit after I was attacked by some crazy stagehand in the bunkroom. It was all rather unsetting to my constitution. I sent a letter explaining it to Monsieur Moncharmin once I had arrived at Leroux Manor but I must have misaddressed the envelope. I have no mind for those sorts of things." Philibert stood behind his brother, remaining perfectly silent as the other talked. Christine was raising her eyebrow in apparent confusion. The young woman looked at her husband then back to the girl in black. Silence hung in the air, awkward and unyielding.

"Who, may I ask, is this ravishing young angel?" Philibert fought his voice cracking, breaking through the lull in their conversation. He stepped in between the mysterious man and his brother who was still staring down the other woman.

"Oh, Philibert. I would like to introduce you to Mademoiselle Madison DeLogio. She is a new chorus member here at the Opera L'Populaire. She was supposed to be in Faust and this is…" Christine's voice dropped as she made full eye contact with the tall stranger. Her facial expression was strange, almost terrified, as though she recognized the man. She shook her head slight before changing her expression to something softer and more cordial.

"Oh! I am terribly sorry. How rude of me not to introduce…"

"Cedric Leroux," Madison glared darkly at the man who cut into her small speech. "Please to meet the infamous Chagny family. So sorry to hear about that fatal accident which claimed your elder brother's life. It is a tragic loss for France. Sort of curious why such a powerful man was poking around the river bank so late at night and such a bizarre time of year." Anger flared in Philibert, the same burning one that he knew was boiling in his brother. Their eldest brother had been found dead, mid-winter on the bank of the Seine. No one had been charged in the crime nor was the cause of the man's death ever discovered. It was something of a sore subject with the brothers, especially since it came so close after the death of their parents.

"If you will excuse me, I must tend to some personal business. Madison, I will be right back." The last few words seemed like an order to stay in the same spot until the arrogant man came back. M. Leroux rushed away through the throngs of partygoers. Mlle. DeLogio went in the opposite direction once Cedric was out of sight. Philibert watched her disappear, considering whether or not to go after her. It took him a moment before trying to maneuver through the crowd, away from his family.

"Oh my dear, it is our love story. They have only just met each other and my little brother is in love. Just like that day on the beach…" Raoul laughed gently, shaking his head. He wrapped his arm around his wife's waist, pulling her closer to dance again.

"My red scarf flying into the ocean…" Christine smiled, blushing lightly.

"Our hearts and destiny locked forever. I hope that the Phantom will stay out of this so that they will be married soon."

"Marriage?" Christine laughed, taken aback by her usually practical husband. "Darling, they are far too young for any sort of talk like that. Also, I believe we literally just introduced them. She has her opera career to attend to, one that has barely even started."

"Philibert isn't much younger than you were. I want my brother to be happy with someone as we are together. He needs someone."

"Well, there will be time for that. Anyways, the Phantom has no hand in Madison's life right now. I don't know why you keep bringing him up, my love. He is dead." With Christine's words, a great sound like furious winds filled the foyer as the lights flickered out into a foul, sinister darkness. A spot of light focused on a figure standing at the top of the staircase. Whoever it was drew everyone's attention to the stairs with a sense of fear instilled in them. The eerie white light followed the person's descent down towards the landing. Philibert, who had lost Madison in the crowd, was now standing at the bottom of the staircase. He realized it was a woman descending, seeing the scandalously low neckline on the bright red top that dipped far below the place that any proper neckline lay at. It was all draped silk, wrapping around her body and showing nearly every possible curve. Her dress was Lust incarnate walking among humans, menacingly taunting those who dare stare directly in to its eyes. The shocking red outfit hid any identifying marks that might betray the woman behind the morbidly realistic skull mask. Philibert frowned at the sight of the woman. Who in the world let her in? Especially with that lethal looking sword she was brandishing in her hand.

_Why so silent, good Messieurs? _

_This is quite the Masquerade,_

_Seems to me that everyone is here,_

_And yet, there is someone missing._

She had a pretty voice though. It was somewhat deep and wise, old-sounding. The vicomte stared in disbelief at his fellow spectators. No one had tried to stop the girl either as she sang from the middle of the marble landing. They all stood still, just as entranced as the person next to them. Philibert was almost convinced that he had yet to draw a breath himself.

_Why so silent good monsieurs?_

_I bring word from the Phantom,_

_He bids you all Bonjour and_

_Warns all to be wary,_

_For he has a new student,_

_He says that anything that happens to her_

_WILL BE BACK PAID IN FULL!_

With the last word, the 'Phantomess' disappeared in a burst of fire and red smoke. The floor below her had opened up and swallowed her whole. How in the world was something like that even possible? Philibert dashed up the steps, standing in the same spot as the girl had as the house lights returned, illuminating the foyer full of costumed people. Voices filled the foyer with much confusion. Was the fun over? Could that be the Phantom's daughter? Was the Phantom alive? Was he back? Madison reappeared next to Philibert's side, looking rather concerned. Her face was nearly white as sheet and she was shaking like a leaf.

"What in the world happened here?" She asked earnestly. Philibert grabbed her hand, not waiting for the strange creature to disappear before he could actually talk with her. The Vicomte explained the strange events to Madison who took it calmly and with a spark of curiosity about her. She seemed to react slightly too calmly for someone who was involved with the opera. Did she not know all the details from the last time this phantom appeared? Moncharmin ran up to them, breathless and flustered. He gave a haphazard bow to Philibert before turning to Madison.

"That little brat Claire Tulio has backed out for singing her own composition. Something about not tempting fate farther or some drivel like that. I need you to sing, Mlle. DeLogio. You are the only chorus girl here. Well, the only chorus girl who isn't completely three sheets to the wind and can warble something. I would ask the Comtesse but that would be the height of impropriety. I don't care what you sing, just do it!" He grabbed her by the hand as soon as she began to nod. Philibert threw his hands up in the air. He was never going to get a chance with this girl, was he? The young noble watched irritated as Moncharmin placed Madison behind him. The bumbling manager announced her grandly to the expecting audience, making it sound like the young woman was more important than she actually was to the company. Madison stood here, looking more than a bit nervous. She looked positively green about the edges. Philibert hoped silently she would not choke or vomit.

_When the rain is blowing in your face,_

_And the whole world is on your case,_

_I could offer you a warm embrace_

_To make you feel my love._

_When the evening shadows and the stars appear,_

_And there is no one there to dry your tears,_

_I could hold you for a million years_

_To make you feel my love._

The player at the piano struck up, having gotten the feel for the song. This version of the music wasn't the same as the original, but somehow just as fitting. Madison cracked a small smile, never once breaking away from her song. That small smile captivated Philibert; it was so sweet, knowing and genuine. It was a smile that a man could have possibly not fallen for, how could he resist something so real in a room filled with masked faces?

_I know you haven't made your mind up yet,_

_But I would never do you wrong._

_I've know it from the moment that we met,_

_No doubt in my mind where you belong. _

_I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue,_

_I'd go crawling down the avenue. _

_No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do_

_To make you feel my love._

_The storms are raging on the rolling sea_

_And on the highway of regret._

_Though the winds of change are throwing wild and free,_

_You ain't seen nothing like me yet. _

_I could make you happy, make your dream come true._

_Nothing that I wouldn't do._

_Go to the ends of the Earth for you,_

_To make you feel my love. _

There was a fall of silence in the space then enthusiastic applause rang out. Madison gave a sort of wobbly bobbed curtsey before quickly skittering down the staircase. Several people were wiping rouge tears from their cheeks, one of those being Raoul who was trying to play it off as some sort of sneezing fit. Christine, Philibert noted, looked highly shocked at the level of skill Madison was at without her tutoring. The young diva rejoined the small group, smiling timidly. Praises came from all around; she had improved after her first appearance so many days ago. Raoul offered for her to continue on with the family to the next party which was taking place outside of the city limits. She responded by saying that casting for the next opera was going to begin in the next few days, and her tutor wanted to finish practicing the lead singing parts in order to surpass the others. Philibert thought of the Phantom's messenger and her vague warning about a new student.

"Um… Mademoiselle, who is this new tutor?" The vicomte asked, suddenly concerned about the identity of this teacher. There was like a million in one chance that it was the Phantom. It couldn't possibly be though. From Philibert's understanding, he was a man only interested in exceptional talent and for all her trying; Madison could not necessarily be labeled as one of those. She sang prettily but nothing beyond the normal. She was not even a soprano of any sort. A contralto, maybe. An average one at that.

"I know not his name, but he has an angel's voice that comes to me in the darkness. We have met twice. Once was here in the Opera House, the other was at Leroux Manor. He is a marvelous teacher. It is as if he knew my voice." There was a sudden stiff tension that filled the air. Philibert watched Raoul glance at Christine who was staring aghast at the girl. Standing before them was the Phantom's new student. That wasn't possible… this all had to be some elaborate hoax. Philibert had been told the stories countless times before, never convinced that they were true. Yet now, this girl was in the same situation with this menace.

"You have to stop…" Christine's words fell off as her attention was caught by something elsewhere in the room. Phil followed her gaze to see Madison's chaperone finally make an appearance from whatever dark corner he sulked off to before. Monsieur Cedric snaked his arm around Madison's waist, pulling the girl close to him. The sinister man whispered something in to the girl's ear. She giggled, blushing furiously and delicately covering her mouth. Envy rose in the vicomte as he realized something. This man was not her father or a guardian, but a suitor. A serious one from the look of their interaction. Phil wasn't sure why he was feeling the need to infer and pull the girl away from the man. He frowned, turning away to see that both of his relatives had already left him in the crowd. The young Vicomte huffed, annoyed. Wonderful. Philibert turned back to say something to the young lady in hopes of convincing her to join him at the next party that evening. The other pair was gone as well now. Well then…

It took some time before the young man was able to find his elder brother and his bride. They were in a fairly heated conversation with the bumbling Opera managers. He came upon them just as Raoul was saying to remind the young opera singer that their home was open for her lodging and if she wished to have continued employment, it would be best for her to take up the offering. Otherwise, she had best start looking for situations in other places. There was fire in his demeanor as the Comte left his managers behind. He had to jog some to keep up with his brother, only catching parts of the mutters.

"This will ensnare that bastard…. Finally. I will be done with him. Done." This was perhaps the most entertaining party that Philibert had been dragged to. It could only get better from here, he supposed.

In the dark halls of the theater's back labyrinth, Madison was finally alone. She had taken the stolen mask off her face again, letting the thing dangle from the eye hole on her finger. This dress was becoming cumbersome to walk in. There was just so much material everywhere to deal with. The young woman hiked the skirt up, beyond any proper height to continue walking towards the dormitories. Her mind wandered into the all-consuming darkness in front of her. Was that a good enough performance? A voice from the shadows answered her question and made her stop in her tracks with something of a scowl on her face.

"Brava, Brava… You did well"


	8. The Forbidden Things

**Chapter 8**

_-We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied us. ~ Francois Rebelais -_

**Paris, France - January 1874**

She still was his prisoner. His plaything in reality. He said dance, and she spun around. He said sing and she broke in to an aria. It was all Madison could do. Play along with the mad man in the cave. It perhaps the most exhausting thing she had ever done. Singing practice and lessons for what seemed like ages each day then there was a lot of just sitting about, watching him compose and drink. He drank a lot, never enough to pass himself out. Enough though for the man to become an angry force of nature when provoked in the slightest. There was quite a pile of broken trinkets shoved in to a dark crevasse of the cave. He never laid a hand on her though or threatened to harm her either. The Phantom did have his sober moments; those were the ones that she actually could tolerate him, felt as if he was a real person. They had a few conversations about music, mostly how little she knew about what he referred to as proper music. There were introductions to loads of composer; all the names sort of ran together as did their music. It was during one of these rare conversations that the Phantom told Madison his real name. Erik. She had remarked that it sounded Scandinavian to which he responded very sharply that he didn't know where his name came from and she should drop any thoughts or questions about his name or his past.

Madison managed to steal some parchment and charcoal from her captor to entertain herself while he was otherwise engaged with his compositions. She sketched him mostly. His hands on the keyboard, his hands writing out the notes that composed his music, his hand resting on his chin as the man was lost in thought. Drawing was her relaxation at home, didn't seem strange that it would help her feel better here. Erik would constantly look over at her, curious as to what she was concentrating so diligently on. He never stopped her, just glanced over from time to time. There were a few times he even walked over to where she sat and stared at the paper. He would give a comment on a sketch if the mood struck him. Madison generally ignored his advice, refusing to let him control one more thing in her life. He controlled everything else. She needed one thing that was her own. For now, her charcoal covered hands were the things she had domination over.

Parts of her wanted to like him. He did have his sober kind moments. He promised her fresh air and a walk about the city if she followed his instructions for the New Year's Eve party. The man has only let her out from the depths of the Opera House once, briefly. Not unaccompanied of course. She felt as though she might even be in some debt to the man, delusional as that was. Erik was teaching her an intricate art form, one she never thought possible for herself. Singing was a very technical craft, one that she never really gave attention to. He was extending her range, helping smooth over her weakly held notes. He was also gave her shelter and food in a world that was completely foreign in more than one way. Madison felt some sympathy for the man. He was lonely and depressed, left alone by the only woman he had loved. His guards were so far up that it seemed impossible to attempt to get close to Erik. It was becoming an intriguing challenge though.

Madison stood in the dark of the long passageway, her ears tuning in to every little noise surrounding her. Waiting for the slight rustle of a cloak, the tap of shoes against the floor, or words to ooze themselves out of the black shadows. Nothing came however. She tightened her grip on the borrowed mask, continuing to walk blindly forward. There had been tinges of anger and sarcasm in those few syllables uttered. No urging in the world could make Madison excited at the idea of facing Erik at the moment. The hurt of his words was already beginning to sting at her, reminding her how ordinary she was compared to Christine. Just something to pass the time and fill the gap for now. How many times had he told her that in the days they spent together in the darkness? Too many to count. The Opera Ghost was still hung up on his muse, drinking often and staring at the drawings he had of the young Comtesse. It was an awful amount of pressure on Madison to try to appease the man. Once again, it would seem she had failed.

"You did well for a chorus girl," The fierce voice crept up from behind her; nearly making Madison turn to face what she thought was the source. She knew better by now. Erik loved to throw his voice about, making it seem as though he was disappearing from spot to spot. Especially if doing so would throw his pupil off guard. Hushed sounds of footsteps came from in front of where she was, walking towards her. Her eyes tried to locate the man in the darkness, certain that he should be appearing in front of her.

"Unfortunately for you, you are supposed to be more than a chorus whore." Only the slight smell of vodka gave Erik away before Madison felt herself being spun around on the spot and dragged along behind the man. Ah, so he was behind her for once. That was something new. He stunk like the spirit, the smell of it overpowering Madison's senses. This wasn't going to bode well for her. She wasn't sure what set him off into another drinking binge, short of seeing Christine happy and pregnant with Raoul's child. That dark-haired Comtesse was still one of the only things on the man's mind, no matter how much he denied it. "You over-reaching little Delilah. Our little performance was perfect without you doing an encore."

"You are mad because I sang when André commanded me to? How could I say no to the person who could fire me and ruin all your glorious plans?" She sniped back at him, glaring darkly at the drunkard. "Claire Tulio backed out at the last moment and apparently I was the only one available. Of course, I was the very last person they wanted to ask."

"All of them were scared witless... That Tulio girl backed out? Well… I suppose the entire evening wasn't a complete failure." Madison could sense the anger in Erik gaining strength as they descended down below. "You need to learn to obey me though, little Mockingbird. I am the one who runs this opera house. It is about pleasing me, not those idiots who are allowed to act as managers. I am the one you decides your fate!"

It wasn't until they had reached the dark, musty lair that Madison truly began to worry about her wellbeing. Tension rippled through his leather-clad hands, and she could feel it directed towards her. Every time he raised his hand to accuse her of something, she flinched involuntarily as though she feared be struck by him. If Erik noticed, he didn't show it. The Phantom just continued his rant about his god complex over the opera house. There was something about his genius being unappreciated by lower beings. It was all blending together again and she was tuning him out, staring at the rocky walls.

"It is very late. Let's get some sleep." The calm tone broke her trance. Madison looked at Erik who seemed very exhausted after his drunken rant. He soon would crash into a snoring mess in the bed and wouldn't wake up for the next twelve hours or so. That gave her some time to herself to draw uninterrupted or even scamper up to the Opera residence kitchens to steal some food. Maybe some eggs and bread with milk for breakfast. Doing that could soften the blow of whatever punishment Erik could think up for her. He liked having a cooked breakfast to take the edge off his hang-overs. "We shall continue this conversation in the morning…"

Thinking about lying down in warm sheets made Madison yawn uncontrollably and stretch out her arms over her head. Despite her supposed return to the Opera Company, Erik demanded that the young woman sleep in his bed. She would never tell him that she preferred his large, warm, soft bed to the dinky thin cot that passed for a bunk in the dormitories. Here, it was quiet and always dark. The dorms were filled with squealing ballet brats, only talking about their various sexual encounters with rich opera patrons and handsome young stagehands. It was all rather disgusting, no matter how one looked at it. She was still lacking in a wardrobe which didn't help the ballet brats teasing for being a 'charity case' of the patrons. The beautiful outfit Madison was dressed in currently came from the costume storage, forgotten amidst the heaps of other clothing items that had not seen life on the stage in several seasons. It was lucky that she was able to find something that hit her fame so well. Erik promised her that once the managers paid up that he would have someone take her to get clothes from a well-known dressmaker. He insisted that she be better dressed than that Comtesse. Always with the Comtesse. She must be better in all ways than the Comtesse, which would teach the harlot the error of her ways.

For some reason, the managers still paid the salary each month. The second day of the month there would be a cream colored envelope placed in the secret hatch of Box Five with a note from Madame Giry, denoting the amount that was contained in the package. 20,000 francs without fail. Madison had no idea what Erik was doing with the money. He spent a bit on ink and parchment. Otherwise, he must have the rest of it stashed away. For what reason? He must be richer than the Comte at this point. Maybe even richer than Bill Gates by comparison. She wondered if he was planning to leave this place for good when he had amassed enough money, though by now he ought to have done that. 20,000 francs. The phrase swarmed in her head; making her think of the note that Revion had shown her. A monthly salary of 20,000 Euros? That seemed crazy but maybe it wasn't. She had no head for economics, especially foreign ones. Revion had seemed upset at the note, perhaps just because of its existence.

"Revion." Revion. His name sounded bizarre in her head and on her tongue. Like someone she had met once and never talked to again. It was as if the Phantom's presence pushed the young Lord out of her mind, filling the empty spaces up with his own. Madison looked in the direction of the bedroom where Erik had sulked off to, bottle in hand. She would wait a while for him to start snoring before venturing upwards to the kitchen. There was a strange craving for some simple cheese and bread in the pit of her stomach before she dared to lay down in that massive black bed. Revion… Revion. How in the world did it get like this? No one would believe her if she told them. They would all label it as some fever dream. Maybe it was. Maybe she was still asleep in that bed, snoring away and would be awaken by someone soon. Something deep inside her told her otherwise. This was all real. She may never see Revion again or her dear friend Christine… or her family. Ripples on the lake water spread out from the tear drop that rolled off her cheek. "I want to go home"

The person staring back at her from the murky surface was not someone she recognized. There was a defeated nature in that person, their face slight gaunter than the one she remembered having. The reflection looked also more glamorous than that squealing school girl who snuck in to the bowels of the Opera House on a whim. A borrowed dress would do that to a person. What were they saying about her? Back where she belonged. A victim of a homicide or kidnapping? Suicide? The mere thought of the latter one nearly forced Madison to the edge of sobbing. Tears freely flowed downwards partnered with little gasps for air. Her body felt like a ton of bricks, pressing her down to the ground. Strong, firm hands grabbed her by the upper arms, forcing the weeping girl to stand again.

"Why are you sniveling?" Erik's eyes were latched on to her, all fire and anger still. He seemed, however, sober or at least more so than he was before. His eyes softened a little when she took a deep breath in order to compose herself.

"It is nothing. I am just missing-"

"That fool of a Vicomte?" His words were bitter and tense as his hands gripped her arms tighter.

"No! I just met him. Why would I miss him? No. No." Part of her wanted to laugh at his ridiculous jealousy, maybe even taunt him for it. The more logical part of her knew that she was currently in a fairly dangerous position and it would be best not to do so.

"Then why are you crying, you insufferable creature?"

"I miss my family! I miss my home." Her tears welled up again, falling uncontrollably. The Phantom let her go with some disgust written on his face. Madison fell forward, slumping against Erik in losing the will to control her own body. "I want to go back."

"Your home?" The Phantom laughed cruelly as if that idea amused him, grabbing her up by the arms again. "You have no other home besides the one here with me."

"No! I have a real home. In America!" Her voice cracked between little gasps for breaths. There was a stunned silence in the air.

"America?" There was no response from Madison. "America? Look at me, girl!" She lifted her head only to see Erik's face inches from her own, his eyes searching her face for an answer.

"I am from America." Was Washington a State yet? She couldn't remember. "My family is from New York… City." Erik's face was even closer than before, if possible. Breathing too deeply would cause their lips to touch while is exactly what happened when another little hysterical gasp for breath escaped on her part. "I am so-so-sorry."

Anger was the reaction she was expecting. Not for the man's grip to soften on her arms or for him to straighten up so quickly. Madison looked up to see Erik complete stoic, his boozy anger dissipated. He let go of her arms, taking one of her hands in to his own.

"I said we would continue our conversation in the morning and we shall do so." He led her up into the bedroom, refusing to let go of her hand until he had drawn the curtains that separated the room from the main space shut. "We shall sleep." Madison just nodded in response, feeling her own exhaustion taking over. Perhaps she would rest for a while then venture upwards to the kitchen pantries. Yes, she needed to rest.

Erik looked at the young girl in his bedchamber, confused and still somewhat drunk. America? She certainly did not sound American, but maybe she had been living in France for some time. There was also the possibility that the girl was lying, but she had remained steadfast in her answer. He looked her over in that silly borrowed gown. Not something she could sleep in comfortably, not with all the layers she had been dressed with. Quietly, he stood behind her to undo the many buttons and fasteners that held her clothing pieces up. She did not protest, only aided being undressed down to the white muslin chemise. The girl took the heap of clothes and began to neatly stack them on one of the many trunks that adorned the room.

"Do you want something else to wear to sleep?" His words made the girl jump then shake her head no. She looked back at him with those brown eyes then refocused on her task of folding up the clothing she had worn that day.

"This is fine. Thank you." She stood up and turned to look at him, oblivious to how thin the material of her chemise truly was. Light of the candles revealed her shape underneath in dark silhouette. Erik tensed up, planting his feet firmly on the ground. Try as he might to ignore it, the girl was very shapely. Her breasts filled out the chemise, making it look as though the thin garment might be too small for her. She was fiddling with the few buttons that closed up the front opening, drawing his focus there and to the two rather darks spots straining against the white muslin. Oh. He turned his attention to some papers that sat on one of the many trunks in the room. Blotched sheets of music belonging to a travesty of a new opera based off the story of Persephone and Hades. It was just horrendous in its current state. His muse had left him hallow, and unable to produce anything of worth. There was this and the overworked Don Juan tragedy. What a composer he was. Full of spite and hatred and corrupted love. No proper opera company would dare produce this drivel without the threat of danger looming over their heads.

Small snores alerted him to the fact that his little ward had fallen asleep already. Erik undressed down to his own underclothes, which was simply his shirtsleeves and a pair of linen drawers. His body felt heavy from the lack of sleep and the amount of alcohol coursing through his system. He tried to slip in the sheets without disturbing the girl too much, settling down. The desire to sink farther down in to his misery was becoming stronger as he laid there, facing the ceiling. His blood ached in his veins, asking for relief. He hadn't used in so long, soothing himself instead with drink and the occasional brothel visit, that was a rarity though. The bottle was his dearest friend, not counting the Persian, but before that it had been morphine. Easy enough to get when you had money and connections to the underground of Paris. He had spent his time away from the opera in some dark corners of the city, needle in his arm and little care what could happen to him. Erik had cured himself of that only to sink in the depths of a glass. A healthier trade-off, some might say.

Warmth suddenly appeared against his side along with the scent of lemon verbena, lemongrass and rose geranium oil. It was the perfume that he had conjured up for the girl on the occasion of the masquerade. He had decided she needed some to complete the image of a wealthy opera patron that he was trying to build. She had refused the other perfumes he had created, saying they were all too, _what was the word she had used?_ Too perfume-y, too floral. The girl expressed she liked scents that were cleaner, fresher and not so weighted down by trying to be so complex. It was perhaps the most intelligent thing she has spewed out of her mouth the entire moth that they had spent together. Erik turned his head in the direction of the scent only to be met with the sight of a sleeping Madison. She had snuggled up to his side in her sleep, nestling her head against his shoulder. How was he supposed to remain distant and detached from her like this?

"Erik…" The whispered word breezed into his ear like a delicate moan, sending desire racing through his body again. She was dreaming, of something not entirely unpleasant as evidenced by the expression on her face. How much had she consumed over the course of the evening? She didn't stink of alcohol. He moved a lock of her hair from her face, gently setting it behind her ear. She was very pretty. "Erik… Please."

Erik quickly removed himself from the bed, standing up beside it. Was she awake? Was she just teasing him? He looked down on the girl who had adjusted herself to the absence of his being. She seemed to be asleep, slight snoring lightly. The buttons of her chemise were undone, exposing her. They had been like that while she… He couldn't control himself. He sat at the edge of the bed, hand reached for the opening of her chemise. The thin cotton felt warm in his fingers. He pulled it back to reveal more of her skin, pale and smooth. No, no… what was he doing? The man growled in frustration, finding the clothing he had discarded only a few minutes ago. He couldn't stay here. If he did, there was no trusting himself with this girl.

_The corridors never ended, they just went on forever. It was dark, but not dark enough to completely disguise the path. She kept walking, hoping to find a way upwards in to the light that she knew existed above. He breathe was visible little clouds, reminding of just how freezing it was and how little she was dressed in. Just the chemise, the only one she had in her possession. Stained at the hems and blotched up the skirt with something dark. Dark red like blood. She turned a corner in hopes of finding her way only to find a dead end… and a shadow of a man standing there as if they were expecting her to find them. The lack of light complete obscured his face. "Erik…" Her voice was desperate, no louder than a whisper. The figure did not answer back. She took a few steps forward, trying to discern his features. "Erik, please. Say something." The figure just laughed cruelly, moving forward towards her. It seemed not to move its arms or its legs but yet was still coming. She panicked and ran from the shade. Its laughter followed her as she tried to flee. She turned down the way she thought she had come from only to find a dead end. The figure was now right behind her. She turned to face it, staring in to familiar amber eyes. It spoke with a familiar voice, vicious and jubilant. "Erik is gone and you are mine" _

Madison woke with a scream, breathing hard and a cold sweat running down her brow. Who or what was that thing? The thing that had stolen Erik's eyes and his voice, but not his face. It almost had no face to speak of, not that she was able to see in the darkness. Her hands wiped away the sweat and smoothed her hair back. Where was Erik? She looked at the spot where her tutor usually lay in his stupors. _Gone_. Just like the voice in her dream said. Her feet found the floor, rough and cold under her. She quickly went to the bedroom curtains and wretched them open. _Gone_. Her heart skipped a beat, what if she had finally woken up from her long nightmare and had returned to her proper place. That itself was a dream. The lair looked the same as it had the day before, full of his belongings and not stripped bare. She tried to let her eyes adjust, looking around for any sign of the Phantom. It was then she realized that the boat was gone as well. Perhaps he had gone above to sulk in the catwalks.

Curiosity was killing her, overpowering the fear of Erik finding out she knew how to leave the lair alone without him. She frantically grabbed trousers out of the trunk where Erik stored his own clothing. They were a little snug through her hips, him being so lean and tall and her being so… curvy. They would have to do though. Madison also snatched up one of his shirtsleeves, tossing it on over her chemise. The hem of which was tucked hastily in to the waistband of the trousers. She also took his little used Garrick coat, something he had taken from the costume storage of the opera. Perhaps it came from the early days of his existence here, before he started to gain begrudged monetary support from the opera management. Her hair was tucked up in to a cap that she had taken off one of the stable boys on one of her lone ventures in to the opera house.

The path she had discovered up from the dungeons of the opera house wasn't perhaps the safest. There was a narrow ledge she had to slowly slide across that ran alongside one of the water outlet then a very old wooden staircase that always felt as though the boards would snap underneath her. This let out in to the small opera kitchen that served the dormitories via a hidden door behind one of the cupboards. Madison poked her head out the door, looking around the kitchen. No-one was there to see her. She quickly slipped out, shutting the door behind herself. All she had to do now was get out of the kitchen and in to the backstage area without arousing too much suspicion from anyone still up after the masquerade. She assumed that the workers' party was still in full swing, so she would have to avoid that area. Sudden voices from the hallway leading out of the kitchen took her by surprise. The only other was out was on to the streets of Paris. She bit her lip, undecided where to go till a figure entered the light-filled framed of the darken kitchen door. She ducked outside before she was noticed.

The air was bitter cold and stung at her exposed cheeks. Madison would anything for a scarf at the moment. Now what was she supposed to do? She was fairly certain Erik was still in the opera house. Where else would he even go?

"Sirrah, you are testing my patience." _Erik!_ She pressed herself in to the shadows of the opera building as her tutor and a dark-skinned man passed her by. Madison swore that the Phantom had glanced in her direction, even made eye contact, yet made no move as though he has seen her. They continued down the street. She had no choice but to follow, sticking to the shadows and keeping her head low.

"It seems that I am always doing that." The dark-skinned man spoke with an accent, one that Madison had never heard before. It reminded her of something heady and exotic.

"Enough," Erik sounded extremely tense; "can the girl be lodged with you? I can give you compensation for caring for her welfare. Clothing, food and the like. I just cannot have her in the opera house that close to me at all times. She restricts my freedom to write my music and run the opera as I need. I have to be on constant guard for her escape and others who might seek her out. There is no possible way I can do that as well as make sure that those fools who run my theater don't bring the whole season to a grinding halt with the old, stale acts they keep propping up on stage." He was the one keeping her there! If she was such a burden to him, Erik merely had to let her go and it would be the end of it all. Anger rose up in her, but she kept silent as she continued to follow them farther away from the opera house.

"You should have thought of that before taking on another… pupil, Erik." There a slight laughter in the man's tone, mocking Erik for creating his own circumstances. If she could, Madison would hug the man. "It is not fault of mine that this one is not as pliable as your Miss Daae. Perhaps you should prey on only those who are grieving for the loss of a father. It worked so well last time." No, Madison would kiss the man for his words.

"Sirrah…" Why was Erik so on edge? "Nadir, please. She will live with you. I will retrieve her in the mornings for lessons as well as rehearsal once the season pick up again. I just cannot have the distractions. I cannot."

"Fine. She will come live with me. You are lucky I have nothing else to do and living comfortably off my pension." The two men shook hands before saying words of goodbye and going on to their separate ways. Madison froze some, acting as though she was searching for her keys as Nadir turned and headed her direction. He past her by without a glance, but did let out what sounded like a chuckle followed by something in a foreign language. Arabic, maybe. Whatever it was, it sounded directed at her. She watched him disappear down a side street and then turned her attention back to Erik who was just standing there. He had been watching his friend leave and his attention was directed towards her. He wasn't moving, just staring her down. Unsure what to do, Madison nodded in recognition before darting in to an alley. She nearly fell over something. It took a few steps to regain her footing. It was a person, sleeping under a dark tattered blanket. She muttered an apology before going back out in to the street.

"Watch 'ere ya steppin', boy." The voice in her ear made her whip around violently. The person under the blanket hadn't moved an inch. It was the cruel voice from her dream, the one that sounded like Erik's own voice but not like Erik's voice at all. It had been right in her ear, as though the person had been standing right behind her. That was a trick only her tutor played, not saying that someone else couldn't do the same thing. She whispered another apology to the darkness before racing down the street where she last saw Erik. He was headed even farther away from the Opera house. Where was he going? He was a good deal ahead of her, stalking down the street like a panther on the prowl. Probably happy to be rid of her. She jogged at a slow pace to try and keep track of him. The Garrick coat whipped around her ankles, attempting to trip her up. The few others on these streets paid her no attention, thinking she was just another piece of street scum slinking around under night's cover.

The mysterious man stopped in front of a plain, brick building. It blended in with the others surrounding it. By day, it probably would seem like a person's house to a passerby. Erik walked right in without knocking on the large dark red door. There was a window looking into the front room where Erik was now standing, removing his cloak from around his neck. Madison noted the haste at which he had dressed himself. He usually looked far more put together. He was pacing the room like some caged animal, ready to strike at the next thing to approach it. She had to readjust the way she was standing and almost missed him coming towards the window. The girl ducked down, pressing herself against the wall. An odd hiss noise was followed by a pair of hands grabbing her by the shoulders. Madison was wretched upwards so she was standing awkwardly on her feet, facing the window.

"You should learn how not to be seen following people, boy." The anger rolled off Erik in furious waves, very pointedly at her. Madison kept her head down, praying that the darkness of the street would disguise her features as well as the clothes she was wearing. "Look at me, boy". If she looked up at him, she would never see the light of day. "I said, LOOK at me."

"Monsieur Destler?" The seductive female voice caused the Phantom's head to turn. He looked back at the street flight that he held in his hands and tossed the boy back down on to the street. Madison landed on her side with a slight moan as the cap on her head fell off, letting her hair loose about her shoulders. She snatched up the stupid thing and set it back on her head, disregarding her loosed hair. She was angry now. Damn Erik. She was going to ruin his night if she could swing it somehow. Madison peered into the window again at her tutor who was standing with his back to her, hands at his hips. Her vision was blocked by his backside, which by her own admission wasn't a horrid backside to be gazing at. "Do I satisfy your needs, monsieur?"

"Turn around, mademoiselle. Let me see you." There was a rustle of fabric and a deep sort of chuckle. "Are you the closest girl here to the specifications I put to Madam Jolene?"

"Aye, monsieur. In age and shape." Erik moved away from the window, slipping his hands in to his trouser pockets. "Do I not please you?"

"We shall see…" Madison was finally able to see the girl he was speaking to and was taken aback by what she saw. The girl couldn't be all the much older than she was with a much toner, shapely body. This girl's breasts were pushed up and together by the tight black leather corset over a very sheer chemise and black silk drawers. She had dark brown hair that was styled in soft ringlets that were tied back with a red ribbon. It was then that Madison realized what this house was. This was a brothel. "The fee?"

"150 francs for two hours, monsieur. No kinks, neither." Erik fiddled with something in his pocket and pulled out a little satchel, tossing over to the girl. She tipped the coins out in to her free hand, counting them quickly. She looked at him and then back at the coins in her hand. "For this monsieur, you can do what you for however long you like."

"That is the plan, my dear." He offered his hand out to the girl who took with a swagger of her hips. They disappeared from what must have been the waiting room. The girl… She looked a little like Madison in a certain light. Madison's stomach wretched, threatening to be sick. Why had she come here? She needed to get far away from the place, back to the opera house. The dormitories seemed like paradise in comparison to all the things she had gone through as of late. She turned on her heel, taking off in the darkened streets in the hopes of finding her way back to the darkness. Only if she could have stayed ignorant, stayed in that stupid bed and just waited till morning.

"I am sorry I don't have your particular tea, sir" Nadir Khan looked up at the owner of Erik's favorite brothel. She was a fat, toad-looking creature who pedaled flesh. Her false niceties were sickening. "Can I interest you in anything else?"

"No. The tea is enough. Thank you. Where is Monsieur Destler?" He said, rather impatiently. They were losing time.

"He is with one of the girls currently. I am not sure…"

"Nadir. Can't I do anything without you tailing behind me?" Erik filled the door frame, adjusting his trousers and shirtsleeves. "What is it now?"

"You know who the boy at the window was, don't you?" The expression on his old friend's face replied for him with a resounding negative. "You are getting lax in your old age."

"What are you going on about, sirrah?" Annoyance was creeping into Erik's voice as he spoke. "Be quick, I must be getting back to the opera before Madison wakes to find me gone"

"The boy. At the window. The one you so roughly handled, the one who followed us from the opera house. Did you not look at his face?" Erik shook his head no, more occupied with the cuffs of his shirtsleeves than with Nadir's line of questions. "And I doubt you looked out the window after you carelessly toss that boy back on to the street? No? I didn't think so. I did however. When we first parted ways and then again when she fell on her ass."

"She?" Erik looked up from tucking his shirt hem in, confusion in his eyes. "Be straight with me, god damn it. I have no patience for your games."

"The boy was your dear student." The pause hung in the air, dense and heavy. "It was Madison in shambles of a man's garments. She followed us through the streets and overheard our conservation about her situation. She then continued to follow you here until you shook her like a dog and threw her down. The girl took off through the streets, back the way she thought you came."

"Nadir… Why didn't you stop her when you left me?"

"Because I thought you had already caught on to her. I did. As soon as we left the opera and she started to follow us. Why didn't you?"

Madison sat down on the pavement, hopelessly lost in the darkness. All the buildings looked the same, blending in together to create endless brick walls. It was freezing, getting colder by the moment. She pulled the borrowed overcoat tighter around her body. A shuffling noise made the girl jump to her feet. Where in the hell was the opera house? Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She was going to freezing to death on the streets of Paris and no one would care. Little poufs of mist formed as she let out a sigh. Her dream… She looked at the hem of her trousers and coat. There was dark mud covering both of them, not red though. Not blood. The shuffling noise happened again, this time closer and louder. She needed to keep moving.

The streets kept going on, twisting every which way but no closer to her destination. She was getting in to a part of the city was considerably darker with fewer gas lamps to light her path. Lots of derelict shops were boarded up with some sort of condemned sign posted on the doors. Madison turned down an alley street; thinking that it could help to get off what she assumed was a main thoroughfare. She looked behind her as she walked, unable to shake the feeling that the shuffling thing was still behind her.

"Oh god..." There was a figure at the opposite end of the alley, in a dead end. She stared at it with the sensation that it was staring right back at her. The dark was concealing their identity. No longer a dream… A premonition of reality. "Erik… Help me…"

"Boy, you really need to learn to watch where you are going." It was that voice from the alley. Its owner strode forward quickly as if meaning to strike her. "No Erik can help you now."

"Sorry, sir, sorry!" She blurted before running away from the man. Nowhere to go from here, but to continue down the street. The man's heavy footsteps chased her out of the slum and into a rather ritzy neighborhood. She looked back to see the man's face only to find it obscured by a cap. He was dressed like a dock worker though, in simple rough fabrics. Her momentum was suddenly halted by a warm body. "Sorry! Please don't hurt me… I am sorry!"

"Mademoiselle DeLogio?" Hands gently steadied her, removing her cap from her head. The almost impossibly welcome sight of Philibert's smiling face greeted her. "Are you ok? What is wrong?" She looked back to see her pursuer standing just out of the light of a streetlamp. The man tilted his hat back so at least the lower half of his face was exposed. A smile was forming as he waved at her. He turned away, and disappeared in to the night. "Who was that?"

"I don't know… I don't. He was going to hurt me, Vicomte de Chagny. He was going to hurt me." All she could see was the blood from her dream, and the sickening feeling that it must have been her blood. Splattered all over the white muslin.

"Hush, I have you. No one is going to harm you." He cooed, drawing the girl in to his arms. "Is there somewhere we can take you?"

"No. I have nowhere to go. I am lost, monsieur. Lost and alone." She sobbed in to his shoulder, clutching at the lapels of his tail coat.

"It is okay, Madison" He said her name as if it was something precious and delicate. It made her pause a moment to think of the implications of this whole scene. There was no one to see it though, therefore no way to get back to her tutor. If that is what she could call him. The opening of a door made the girl lift her head up to see Raoul and Christine, still both in costume, exiting from a house. They looked at Philibert and her without saying a word.

"Is the offer to come stay with you still open?" Madison asked sheepishly to the man holding her.

"Yes, of course."

"I would like that very much."

* * *

_A/N: Hello! Back again. You might notice that over half the story is missing. Well, I went back to do some editing and the story took on a new life. So in a way this is a re-write. I have gotten rid of some characters, introduced some sooner, and creating a more realistic relationship between Erik/Madison. Reviews please!_


	9. To Escape

**Chapter 9**

_- Courage is ten, nine is the ability to escape - _

**Paris, France - January 1874**

Morning came much too early for the elegant household. Servants whispered to each other that Raoul stayed up till the early hours of the morning in his study, drinking rather heavily and was now nursing a headache. His well meaning wife had wished to summon the gendarmerie in hopes of finding the man that had stalked their house guest so viciously through the streets. The Comte thought that sort of futile as a venture. No one ever saw the man's face; only what he was dressed in. Too little evidence to attempt to start an investigation. His wife thought otherwise, obviously, but did not send for them as not to upset Raoul.

The Comtesse had spent the rest of the night with the girl, trying to find out more details of her time spent away from the opera house before the masquerade. Both remained stubborn and unyielding. The girl would not give up a thing about the man who escorted her to the ball nor if he was possible the same man who had given chase after her on the street. All Madison would say was that she had never been in danger until that evening. Her wellbeing was never threatened by the man who was playing her caregiver and tutor. She insisted on being returned to the Opera house the next morning. _I will walk there alone if I have to_. Christine was certain that was an empty threat, and informed the girl that she was now their ward. She would be staying here from now on.

One of de Chagny servants had prepared an expansive room for Madison that just happened to be one of Philibert's spare rooms. This of course was against Christine's wishes and came as an order from Raoul. The couple was at odds in what to do with this little ragged addition to the family. They had been for some time as Christine wanted to take her in some reason, right after the auditions. Something about being concerned for the girl's safety. Madison wondered if she could use that conflict to her advantage, to return to the opera house. She lay on the oversized four-poster bed, staring at the decorative ceiling. Was there an inch of space that these people wouldn't slap some sort of decoration on? The room door opened and one of the maid stepped in. She gave a quick bob of a curtsy, saying she was here to help get the mademoiselle ready for the day. With what clothing, Madison retorted in an almost mocking tone. It turned out that there were some of Raoul's Mother's things still in the house and should fit her for the time being. The late Comtesse being of a larger nature in her later years.

"Creepy…" Madison muttered, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a proper Victorian miss in mourning. She was donned in a charcoal gray silk dress that was supported by an out of fashion crinoline cage and properly laced corset. It was pretty simple in its design with very few frills to annoy her. There were a few bits of black lace, but it was a pretty thing. Her hair had been pinned up in to something that Christine had claimed to be in style. The Comtesse kept saying how sorry she was that everything they had to offer her was out of date, not listening when Madison replied she didn't care about things like that. Christine waved her responses away, saying they would go to the dress-makers soon to get her some proper clothing to make her stop looking like a gypsy child. A statement that Madison actually took some offense to for some reason. All of this fuss over her appearance made her long to be underneath the opera where Erik let her exist in his clothes and be content with that.

What would he think when he saw her in this get up? Madison let her gaze drift to the floor as she followed behind Christine, arm-in-arm with Philibert who was beaming from ear to ear. He was asking her all about her opinions on books that she had never heard of. She asked him if he was familiar with Emily Bronte's or rather Ellis Bell's Wuthering Heights, to which he responded that he had not but had read something by Currer Bell that was rather good if not a little too intimate at times. He confessed that he preferred Jules Verne as an author.

"I don't think I have actually read any of his works."

"I own a copy of a few of them. I will lend you one. You might like it."

"Thank you." She smiled at him, letting go of his arm as they entered the dining hall. Silence overtook them as they sat at the long table. Madison fiddled with the table settings, turning the fork over in her hand. They had to wait for Raoul to appear before the servants would start the morning breakfast service. It was a good while before Madison decided to break the silence. "Um. Comtesse…"

"Christine, darling. Please."

"Christine… I have a need to return to the Opera today. Auditions for Beatrice and Benedict are taking place soon. I find I am quite ill prepared for them. I need to take a few more lessons with my tutor and get a copy of the libretto for rehearsal purposes." Madison looked up from the table to see Christine watching her, waiting for something. She supposed she would have been better off not trying to speak so properly. It seemed suspicious.

"We can go retrieve the libretto with you and then go to the dress-makers. I can easily help you prepare for the auditions. We must write to that tutor of yours to discontinue your lessons." Erik would disagree with that. "I think I can handle teaching you." He would also disagree with that.

"I am coming with you," Philibert added quietly. "That man from the street and that monster from the opera house are still out there. I am surprised that he never ended up with a bullet in his skull after all the atrocities that he committed against the people of Paris. He wronged more than just our family." The Vicomte smirked. His tone hinted at the idea that he would gladly be the one to do it. Madison felt her face go white in response as her stomach knotted itself up. This was becoming all too much. She stood up quickly, nearly knocking over the chair she was seated in.

"Excuse me." She ran out of the dining room as best she could in all these damned layers, not entire sure which way to run. She took off the way that they had originally come from, bursting through a set of double doors. This was the study in which Raoul had taken up in. He stood in front of glass doors, staring outside. He turned around quickly when she had entered the room. Freedom was calling from just outside those doors. Madison darted around Raoul who acted as if he meant to catch her about the waist. He called after her but his voice was cut off by the doors slamming shut. The only place that she saw to retreat in to from here was the large garden that covered the back part of the de Chagny property. Fresh air felt good on her flushed face as she walked across the paved terrace over to the wide staircase to the garden. Madison stood at the top of the stairs, overlooking the back part of the beautiful grounds. The family property was about 60 acres in all not including the forest that lay at the edge of those abundant acres. About 10 of those acres were converted into by a complex maze of tall dark green hedges and marble fountains. Raoul had, for some reason, thought it very important that she know about the family home as they traveled from the city to here. All that land was covered by fresh snow that had fallen during the nighttime.

She descended down the steps, not willing to wait for one of her hosts to retrieve her back in to the house. It was all too formal there for her. Madison longed for the freedom that Erik gave her to do what she pleased as long as she stayed in the underground. The snow seeped into the silk flats that covered her feet. The cold bit at her toes, making her wish she had taken a pair of the men's boots. Madison let the hem of the dress drag through the snow, disregarding that it wasn't her own to begin with. Philibert thought Erik deserved to die. Not just that, but murdered in the street in cold blood like some criminal. Sure, they didn't get along. Like at all. He didn't deserve to be gunned down though. Living with the de Chagny family felt like living with the enemy. They all despised Erik, or at least the men did. It was difficult to get a read on Christine's emotions sometimes. How could a person go through something like the Comtesse did and not end up with some left over feelings? It seemed a little unnatural. He wasn't a monster.

"He is not a monster."

"I know that." Madison turned around to see Christine holding out a fur-lined cape to her with a sympathetic expression. "Erik is your tutor, isn't he? It was you and him that I saw in the dorms that day of the auditions."

"Yeah… He took me from the opera then. I will be the first to admit that I am not the most willing student, but he isn't a monster. He doesn't deserve to be hunted down like one." She hesitantly took the cape from Christine, latching it about her shoulders. It did help against the cold. The older woman sighed, linking her arm with Madison's so they could walk together farther in to the garden. They happened upon a 'room' simple fountain surrounded by amazing brickwork took center stage. At the top of this marble wonder was a couple in a passionate kiss. The girl's water jug had fallen to the ground, acting as the source of water for the lower pond. Beautiful red winter roses were about to bloom around the small relaxing courtyard, each struggling for their bit of rising sunlight. Madison plucked one of the rosebuds off, crushing it in her hand. "He is not a horrid person… He is just lonely, I think. He has no idea how to interact with other humans."

Christine sighed, sitting herself down next on the edge of the fountain's pool. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but just closed instead. Madison plopped herself next to Christine, trying to maneuver with all the steel caging around her body. She let out a deep sigh to which the other woman responded with her own. The two women just sat there, staring at the snow covered ground.

"It doesn't excuse the people murders that he has committed or the damage he has caused in order to get everything that he wants." Madison kicked at a cobblestone with the toe of her flat, stirring up the tiny snowflakes that landed on her shoes. They disappeared "You, of course, know of the whole affair between me and him. All of Paris knows about my shame."

"Shame? Your shame? What about him? What was he supposed to do? No concept of how to love but he still fell in love with you against all logic. Then you throw that in his face by falling in to the arms of another man who just shows up out of the blue one day? I may be rude and uncivilized at times, but I could never be that cruel to another person. Never to push them to their breaking point." Defending Erik against Christine, this was something that Madison never saw herself doing. Actually, defending Erik in any situation really was not something she would have leapt forward to do. Her companion just folded her hands in to her lap without another word, just sort of looked defeated. A loud shout from the direction of the mansion caused both of their bodies to jump. Madison stood up quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We should get going. The trip back to Paris takes some time, I imagine." Her tone was sort of pleading and apologetic. The last thing Madison wanted to do was to offend Christine. Not when she had been so willing to open up her home to a homeless girl she knew nothing about. It was however beginning to seem that both Erik and Christine had plays to use her as a pawn against the other. The Comtesse stood up from her sear and walked in front of Madison, back the way they had came.

"It was the hardest decision that I ever had to make." Christine's voice was low making Madison blink in shock and rush to walk next to the other woman. "Leaving him behind. Going with Raoul instead. It wasn't easy. I loved both of them. I still do, but I made my choice. I am happy with Raoul." She placed a hand on her small baby bump. Madison just nodded without saying a word. The pair's pace was slow as they ventured back to the main house. Neither of them was saying anything more. In due time, they ended up standing at the carriage that sat in the front drive. Philibert was holding the door wide-open, gray eyes locked on the younger girl. The de Chagny's houseguest got in without much as a glance at Philibert. His words at the table were ringing in her ears. Madison wanted to hate him for it but couldn't. He was just trying to be sweet and caring, but it came across just so wrong. She gave him a small smile before climbing in to the carriage without saying another word to the youth.

"Raoul is staying behind to take care of some affairs here." Philibert told Christine as he helped her up in to the carriage.

"Of course he is." He looked at his sister-in-law, his head tilted to the side. "Don't worry, Philibert. Shall we? We are losing time." He jumped in; allowing one of the footmen shut the door behind him. He sat opposite of Madison, next to Christine. They lurched forward some as the horses started moving along the dirt drive. The morning had flown by so quickly. Perhaps it was due to the night's bizarre events and the fact that Madison had barely slept. The carriage seat was covered in midnight blue velvet. Swaying of the carriage and the fabric of the cushions was lulling her down in to sleep. She was fighting to keep her eyes cracked open before she slipped from the safety of the waking world.

_The corridors. Again. This time though the shadow had already caught up to her. "You ran. You shouldn't have." She backed away from it, finding herself pressed against a wall. The shade had her trapped there. Its arms had not moved to block her in but she knew she couldn't go anywhere. She looked down and saw her clothing had changed to what she wore last night. Dark red stained the coat and the trousers. It also covered her hands, slick and warm. "You don't run from me. You can't. I will find you. Erik is gone and you are mine."_

"No!" Philibert and Christine were staring at her. Christine had a hand over her mouth while Philibert moved over so he was sitting by Madison's side. He took her hand in his, clutching it tightly. There was a sick realization that the blood was probably Erik's. In her dream, Erik was dead. Again, not something she wished on him even though she harbored no love for the man.

"What is it? Are you ok?" Philibert's free hand reached up, gently grasping the side of Madison's head. She sort of just let her head rest in his head, over come with exhaustion as though she had been running from her Shadow. It felt comfortable and natural to be like this at that exact moment.

"Just a bad dream. I am fine." She muttered before her eyes closed again. Madison felt Philibert place her head against his shoulder and take up her hand again in his own. "Bad dream." Tension in the coach was thick after her little outburst. Madison resisted sleep, frightened that she would descend back in to the Labyrinth. It was so claustrophobic, crushing her till there was nothing left but those eyes and the voice. She slipped back to sleep against Revion's shoulder but did not dream.

The Chagny carriage finally arrived in front of the Opera L'Populaire which already had been cleaned up from the previous night's activities. Philibert gently woke the sleeping girl as The driver got down from his perch to open the door for them. She sat up, blinking her blurry eyes. It wasn't really in her nature to just curl up to a guy she just met and take a nap on his shoulder. There was that whole sharing the same bad with Erik thing but that didn't count for anything. Philibert climbed out first to offer his hand to Madison who ignored it and leapt out on her own. She sort of landed awkwardly, but found her feet again while smoothing out her borrowed dress. "I am fine, Philibert. Please."

She walked up the front steps of the opera house. The soles of her borrowed shoes tapped against the marble. Philibert matched her in stride, opening the front doors for her with a patient little smile. Madison wanted to tell him to settle down, to heel on his affections towards her. Yet, the selfish side of her refused to do such a thing. Being doted on this by a man who wasn't her father or her brother was sort of nice. She stepped inside and took his arm as they crossed the lobby. There was no harm in some innocent flirtation.

Following the two youths at a slightly slower pace, the Comtesse de Chagny took in the sight of the repaired opera house. It was nearly identical to its previous state, save some small details that were really of no consequence. Well, save for the sense that her Angel was watching over her every move. That part of her life had disappeared the day after the fire. Christine never realized how much she relied on that sensation. It was like someone had callously hack chunks out of her soul to steal them away. She passed through the backstage areas, which were silent due to the day off most of the stagehands were given in celebration of the New Year. There were a few men cleaning up the remnants of the party. They gave small little bows of their heads in recognition of Christine. This all felt so wrong. Meg Giry was working with a group of the younger ballet students in one of the side rehearsal halls, meaning AntoinetteGiry would be sitting in her office, making decisions for principle dancers. She should be here, auditioning for roles and using her gift. Not playing housewife to a Comte. Christine did not know the first thing about running a household, much less raising a baby. Her hands rested on the bump in her stomach, feeling for the movements she was becoming accustomed to. Was this all that was left for her? To raise little lords and ladies, smile at parties and be the good subservient wife. It felt more imprisoning than the prospect of being tied to her Angel.

"Christine!" Meg's voice made the Comtesse smile. The blonde ballerina was motioning for her to come in to the hall. Several of the young ballerinas came running up to her as she walked towards her dear old friend. Each one of them wanted some candy from Princess Christine. One girl had expressed that Raoul looked like a prince from all those romantic tales of knights and damsels-in-distress. It wasn't before all the little ones were addressing Christine as 'Princess' whenever they crossed paths. She thought it was sort of sweet so never sought to correct them. Christine pulled a small hand of sweets out of her reticule, offering them up to the crowd of girls around her. The tutu-adorned students took them and broke off in to their little circles, taking Christine's entrance as a signal for a break. Meg shook her head but smiled anyways. "Oh, did you hear?"

"Beatrice and Benedict seems like an odd choice for the managers. They usually go for things that guarantee a crowd." Philibert's voice sounded so diminutive in the vastness of the theater. Madison just hmm-ed in response without looking up at her escort. She was focused on the leather bound libretto in her hands. The pages had been freshly printed and bound that morning so there was a lingering ink smell wafting up. Tinkling keys interrupted her enjoyment over the smell of chemicals. Philibert had found a rehearsal piano stashed off to the side of the stage. "Do you want to try a song?"

"Um, sure. Here. This one. Act two, scene two, number 10, Air?" She point out the page before setting the book up where she could easily read the lines. Reading music was not something she had managed to learn, usually faking it by hearing someone else do the lines before she tried singing them. Erik had failed to teach her how to read all those stupid circles on those lines or bars or whatever they were called. Philibert started to play the music, nodding to Madison just before she should jump in singing.

_God!__What have I heard?__  
__I feel a secret fire spreading__  
__in my breast!__  
__Benedict ...__is it possible?__  
Benedict would love me?__  
_

_I remember, the day of departure of the army,__  
I could not explain__  
the strange feeling of sadness  
that took hold of my heart.__  
He leaves, I said it, I rest.__  
Is it fame, is it death__  
what does the fate__  
So I hate sarcastic?__  
_

_The darkest terrors__  
the next night was filled ...__  
The Moors triumphed, I heard their cries;__  
Streams of Christian blood were dark red.__  
In dream I saw Benedict panting__  
under a pile of dead helpless corpses.__  
I'd shake on my burning layer;__  
Cries of terror escaped from my mouth.  
_

_When I awoke at last, I laugh at my excitement.__  
I laugh Benedict, for me,__  
in my foolish alarms ...__  
Alas!__Alas!__That laugh was bathed in tears._

_I remember,_

_I love him so?__I love him so?__  
Yes, Benedict, I love you!__  
I no longer my own, I am no longer myself.__  
Be my winner,__  
Tames my heart__  
Come on!__Already this wild heart__  
Fly in front of slavery!_

_Benedict Yes, I love you,_

_Farewell, my frivolous gaiety!__  
Farewell, my freedom!__  
Farewell, contempt, farewell, follies!__  
Farewell, biting mockery!__  
Beatrice in turn,__  
Tomb victim of love!_

"_Mockingbird…"_ Erik's voice breezed past her ear. _"There you are." _Madison looked to Philibert to see if he had heard the voice, but he was just smiling at her like a simpleton again. She was sure he had been saying something to her. Her tutor's voice was blocking out the Vicomte's, filling her head. She closed the book to tuck under her arm. _"I left the cage door open. Best find your way back."_

"Shall we find Christine and go see if she is ready to go?" Madison suggested in what she hoped sounded like a calm voice. She was ready to bolt, but not quite willing to run. That would only aggravate the problem. "I imagine the dress-makers might take some time." A rustling noise from above made Philibert look upwards, squinting in the darkness. Madison grabbed the young Vicomte by the hand to pull him along. No sense in waiting for the lasso to lash out. They walked in silence side by side after she had let go of his hand.

"Oh wait. I left my gloves on the piano. I will catch up with you." He left her behind. In the dim corridor. Madison was not going to wait for him here. Not a chance. She kept walking forward, eyes set determinedly in front of herself. Nothing was going to deter her from finding Christine and getting out of the territory of the Opera Ghost.

"_Madison_." That might however. Erik's voice called from the shadows behind her. She walked quickly, refusing to look back. "_Madison_." She was at a fork in the hall and her name was being called from the right side. Left, it was then. Her energy to run from him was waning. He was obviously leading her back to where he thought she belonged. In his care, of course. This little game kept going on, pushing her up through the backstage areas. She finally found herself at the roof access door, walking out in to the afternoon air. It was overcast and threatening to open up to dump snow on the city again. Powdery, white crystals crunched quietly under Madison's shoes as she walked out on the rooftop. The large statues loomed like great shadows against the gray sky. Beyond them, she could almost see all of Paris from the wide viewpoint that the roof offered up. It was breathtaking, everything blanketed in snow like it was. It looked so much like her modern day France with the exception of a fire that was overtaking a building across the way from the opera house. Madison found herself drawn to the edge of the roof to observe the destruction. She stared at the bright flames engulfing the once beautiful shops and flats. The warm of the flames drifted upwards, just brushing her cheeks.

Deep in thought, she spaced out for some time. She was quickly brought out of her reverie as a melancholy song reached her ears. It was a low male voice, coming closer without the sound footsteps accompanying it. She slowly tensed up; waiting for hands to grab her by the shoulders. The voice moved in another direction, creeping to the other side of the rooftop. So now she had to play the part of pursuer? Fine. Madison hid behind one of the statues, peering around the folded wing of a weeping angel to see the shadowy form of Erik. He was standing with his back to her, hands gripping the barrier. Her stomach dropped out from its place at the sight of him. Erik was so painfully tragic from a distance where one did not have to deal with his anger and demons. He was staring up at the clouds then down at the street below. She quietly listened to what he was singing under his breath, not sure if she should announce herself or make her retreat back to the de Chagny's.

_Faire ne vous osez pas regarder hors votre chéri de fenêtre; _

_Tout est sur le feu _

_La guerre hors de notre porte garde raging sur _

_Prise sur cette berceuse _

_Même quand la musique est allée, allé… _

The singing stopped as a few tears rolled down the side of her face, tasting bitter on her lips. Tears? She wiped her eyes, blinking furiously to make them stop. Madison had no idea what he had even sung, yet the tone of it made her heart hurt. Like her heart was being stabbed by some sense of melancholy. He had sung softly as if afraid someone might hear him. The language was not something she was familiar with either. Madison watched him as he turned around, leaning against the railing. Her heartache stopped and turned in to terror. Sheer terror. Erik wasn't wearing his mask; he was barely dressed in the same clothes he had worn the previous night. His dark hair was tussled every which way. The right side of his… How could she even think to begin to describe it? The skin over his cheek was thin, pulling tight across his face. It puckered and twisted over the ridges in his bones. The man's upper lip was pulled back slightly by the tightness of his skin. There were slight red spots at the places where the masked had rubbed the flesh raw. A portion of the actual skull was showing through where the skin had peeled back at the top of his crown, an off white color in the dull sunlight. His hair line crept around the exposure, outlining it with stark contrast. It was like staring at Death in the eyes. She slinked behind the statue, feeling bile burning the lining of her throat. She had no idea that… It never dawned on her that seeing the deformity in person might be too overwhelming, too disgusting to even look at. Madison sunk to the ground, letting the borrowed clothing become even further spoiled.

"There you are, Mockingbird. Safe and sound." She didn't bother to look up. She couldn't. Not if it meant looking at that face again. "Mockingbird…" Madison looked up into his burning amber eyes, guilt written all across her face. Shadows from the statue she huddled against hid the marred side of his face from her. His gloved hand was lowered and out-reached. "Come."

"No. No. I am done." Madison stood up, fighting off the nausea that wanted to boil up. She took off towards the door that she had come through. His boots gave chase quickly after her own footsteps, much swifter than herself. Her hands had barely clutched around the door handle when she was yanked backwards, twirled around and then slammed against the door. A sharp yelp escaped her back met with unyielding wood. Erik grabbed her by the chin, forcing the young girl to look at him. His eyes blazed down on her, only made more horrible by the sight of his face.

"Done? You are not done. You still belong to me. You are still my student." He all but growled at her. "Where did you go?" She held back a sob, thinking of a way to divert his attention. Madison just needed space from this… insanity. If only for a week or two, just enough time to gather her strength back to deal with him. "Where did you go?"

"To the estate of the Comte de Chagny, under the care of the Comte and the Comtesse." She muttered, forcing herself to breathe smoothly. Erik let go of her, stepping back.

"Erik knew it. He had a feeling that she had something to do with it." Madison's hand found the door handle behind her as she watched Erik pace back and forth. He was muttering under his breath, wringing his hands together. He wasn't really paying attention to her allowing for her to throw open the door. It slammed against the wall as she blasted through it. Madison didn't look back, couldn't look back. Otherwise, she would collapse from the sight of Erik giving chase.

Everyone had seemed to disappear; there had been a few stagehands wandering about before. Both of their footsteps thundered down wood planks of the upper levels. Madison took the stairs two at a time going downwards, nearly tripping at the end. She stopped suddenly, ready to cry again. She had found herself standing just off the side of the stage again. How had she ended up here and not somewhere else? This was not possible. Sounds of the pursuit stopped quickly as soon as several people walked out on to the wooden stage. Vicomte de Chagny, Comtesse de Chagny, and the two pompous managers were talking in rather loud anxious voices that carried out over the empty seats. It sounded like their topic was Madison and the risks she carried for the Opera House. Monsieur Richard argued that it would bring good money to have her sing, considering the gossip that would ensue because of the phantom while Philibert countered with the fact that a Don Juan Triumphant accident may happen once again, putting the opera house in harm's way. Her knees locked in fear, not allowing her to move from the spot where she stood.

"Help!" She yelped, feeling cool leather brush against the back of her neck. Cool breathe breezed on her exposed skin while the leather gloves grabbed her shoulders. The feeling disappeared as Christine crossed over to her and stood at her side. Madison's feet stumbled forward, trying to walk out from the shadows that hid her. Christine lunged forward to support her up as did Philibert.

"Damn it. I did it this time, Christine. I messed up." The Comtesse just shushed her, trying to comfort the girl. Christine helped led the shaking girl from the dimness of the theater, passing through the long halls leading to the foyer. Madison glanced at her reflection in one of the mirrors to see an unrecognizable young woman. This girl's hair was messy and tussled, red creeping back into her pasty cheeks. Visible trails of tears streamed down her face as a gentle hand touched her shoulder. That girl was Madison, but somehow she was not. This version was exhausted and older.

Philibert had been walking behind his sister-in-law, silent the entire time. His open arms caught Madison as she tripped on the hem of her crinoline. Their eyes meet when she looked up at him. His smile meek and afraid, eyes dull with a terrible sadness that crushed her melting heart to a pulp. All the feelings she had held back during the torture she suffered at the hand of the Phantom sprang forth. More tears poured out as she fell limp in Philibert's arms. What had this boy done to deserve her cold indifference? Nothing, she could care less how the scene might have looked. Madison just needed someone's shoulder to cry on, and he was there for that reason. He nervously placed his arms around her, squeezing the girl waist slightly. Pain shot from the spot that Phil had touched, causing her to flinch. That place took damage from Erik's rough body slam. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, nose sniffling every so often. The would-be lover quietly asked if she wanted to return home. The answers came out as a soft yes. Madison felt the Vicomte and the chauffeurs lift her up to her feet, and then practically carry her to the carriage.

Images of the city of light, surrounding countryside and other travelers just blurred in her mind as the odd family pushed on towards the gorgeous estate. All Madison could think about was Erik's face. That face threatened to burst forth from each shadow. It was engraved in her mind, going to haunt her dreams from now until eternity. Perhaps the shade in her dreams had been Erik the entire time. Maybe the man who had chased her through the city had also been Erik. Was he just playing with her? Philibert led her into the grand manor by the hand, avoiding eye contact. Their steps were the only noise in the still air around them. He stopped outside her door, opening it to let her walk in first. She smiled at him with a heavy sigh. Madison leaned up on her tip-toes to place a kiss on his cheek. They just stood there for a moment before she slipped in to the room with a quiet good night.

Madison leaned against the hard wood of the door, looking about the room. Its overly decorated walls were painted a pale canary yellow underneath the cream of the molding. The bedspread on the canopy bed was about the same color yellow with delicate flowers embroidered with satin thread. A large armoire sat in the far corner next to a white vanity desk with a baroque mirror where she had sat earlier while Christine fussed with her hair. This place was so much brighter, warmer than the dismal depths of Erik's lair. How in the world was she convinced to return to that? He had her totally brain-washed in to thinking she had to return to the opera house. The girl ran her hand through her hair, pulling at the tangles that were accumulated from the day's activity. God, she had to be the luckiest person in the world to have escaped so unscathed. Save for the image of his face. That was never going to be purged from her mind.

She finally took notice of a couple brown packages sitting on the regal four-poster bed. Each one tied neatly with a piece of thin brown twine. Interest was sparked as she slowly untied one of the floppy bows. Crinkling noise was the only sound audible as her hands removed the brown paper. Several books tumbled over on the bed. She picked up the largest one, turning it over to read the spine. _Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea_ by Jules Verne. Madison smiled, thumbing through the pages. This had to be from Philibert, a gift from their earlier discussions. He must have had one of the servants go out and buy these while they had been in Paris. She reached for the next one when pounding on the balcony door startled her off the bed.

"Erik…" Madison's mind was racing as she searched for something heavy. She grabbed up a heavy gold hand mirror, holding the potential weapon like a baseball bat. The girl flung open the terrace doors to be met with jade green eyes, instead of the blazing reddish amber that she had been expecting to be faced with. "Oh… Hello?"

"May I come in Miss?" Lowering her weapon, Madison stood up straight. She recognized the man as the one Erik had spoken with in the street. She nodded solemnly, stepping back to allow Erik's friend to walk inside her room. The older man glanced about before sitting at the end of the bed. The mattress's movement caused one of the smaller packages to fall to the ground. Nadir picked it up by one end of the strings. It came undone letting the little book to thud on to the floor. He gave her an odd look before picking it up and opening the front cover.

"A diary. Useful for a young lady as yourself, however I am sure our mutual friend would not appreciate this inscription in the front" He remarked, pocketing it. Madison made a face of confusion, not entirely sure what he was going on about. "I would be wary of who you spend your time with, dear child."

"Oh. A commandment from the underworld, I suppose?" The words came out maliciously while she picked up the rest of the packages, suddenly afraid that her new books might be taken away. The man just watched her as she set them on the vanity.

"Yes. Our friend accepts your choice of living with the Comtesse over me, if that so pleases you. He has also placed boundaries in order for this arrangement to work amicably for all those involved."

"Boundaries? What right does he…?"

"Every right. At least in his eyes. Unless you want things to get much more complicated and violent, I suggest you comply."

"Uh… Fine. What are these boundaries of his?" Madison sat herself on the vanity stool, facing the dark skinned man on her bed. So there was no escaping Erik, was there?

"You are to audition for Beatrice and Benedict. In preparation for that, you will take lessons from our friend at the opera house every day." Madison made a noise of protestation to which her visitor raised a hand. "Transportation will be arranged for you. You will not allow the Vicomte to become familiar with you in any manner. That goes for any man who would seek to distract you from music lessons and rehearsals."

"Except for Erik, himself." She fought the urge to roll her eyes. This was ridiculous, bordering on insanity.

"Those are the conditions. Do you give your word that you will submit to them?"

"Yes. What other choice do I have to make?" Just a plaything. That is all she was.

"Our friend will also pay you visits here to make sure you are being treated properly and that you are still following his conditions." The man stood up, crossing back to the terrace door.

"Great. Wonderful. Perfect." She muttered, resting her head in her hands. A marionette lacking its manipulator. Madison didn't even look up as the man left her room.


	10. Loss and Gain

**Chapter 10**

_-For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson -_

**Outside of London, Britain – Late Winter, Present Day**

The dying grass waved in the breeze, along the lonely seaside. Gray clouds loomed over head. Tourists dared not venture out to the English coast during the chilly months or at least to this rocky stretch of beach. A lone man sat on the cold sand with a portable radio at his side. It belted out some sort of old rock and roll music, fighting for dominance over the sound of the waves. His golden amber eyes locked on to the rolling waves with a fierce scowl plastered on his handsome features. He brushed a few sandy grains off his dark jeans while a male reporter voice came on his small, portable radio.

"_Two American teens are still missing this afternoon. Both had been on vacation in Southern Europe when they disappeared. Information has been released on one of the girls. Christine Day…"_ The man turned the volume down, sighing more amused than anything. His Madison had been gone for almost a month now. Things had gone painful slow since then so he had to make his own fun. That had not gone as well or cleanly as his fun usually did, but it did keep him most distracted. Of course, he supposed now it just made the whole case a lot more muddled than before.

Closing his eyes, he imagined what could have happened if all his plans had gone smoothly that night his Madison disappeared. She would have been up on the roof with him, alone. The only way she be getting back into the Opera House was if she answered a single question and the girl was naïve enough to say yes without hesitation. He pulled out a crimson red leather box from his pocket, the gold filigree patterns catching what little sunlight there was to be caught. It clicked open, the fiery treasure inside sparkling. His family told him to move on, and forget about the sweet girl from America. The one who had laughed at her friend when he walked into that classroom. Why did he fall for her? Perhaps it was because she had listened to him when he was in need and expressed herself openly when asked a question. She was a nice girl, never complaining if she did not get her way. Her singing was not that terrible either. Lessons would be needed at some point, but for amateur... Decent. Sounds of a car door slamming shut brought his attention back to the world around him. He shoved the box back into his pocket before the older man could see. Revion Seymour turned to see his trusted butler walking towards him at an alarming pace.

"What is it now, Tony?" He snapped angrily, turning the radio back on. Some song was playing instead of the newscast. The elderly man of about sixty years stood behind his young master, patiently.

"The police arrived at the main house. The officer wants to ask you question about something. How they found out that you..."

"Were the last one to see them? Stupid Americans, not as passive as some others. Alas, I will come home now." The youth stood by, dusting the sand off the butt of his pants. Once more, the beachside was abandoned and silent. Only living thing was a tiny fox creeping out of the tall brush grass to watch a sleek black car disappear from view.

**Outside of Paris, France – January 1875**

Cold night air breezed around the de Chagny rose maze, rustling what was left of the hedge leaves. A girl in a cream chemise and an overcoat sat on the side of a snow-covered fountain, hands neatly tucked in to the coat pockets. The water in the pool had frozen slightly several days ago, victim of a bitter winter's night. It was dark and murky under the crust of ice. Madison tapped at the surface where bubbles had settled underneath. They wobbled in response to the aggression. The ice cracked around the edges, allowing for the cold water to splash up at her. She nervously rubbed her hands on the wool of the overcoat. That perhaps wasn't the most intelligent thing she could have done at the moment. Coldness was creeping up her limbs quicker with each passing minute, nipping at her ears and fingertips.

Frustrated that she had been made to trek out in the middle of the freezing night, Madison viciously dug a piece of paper out of her pocket. It was a bit crumpled from being hastily stowed in the coat during auditions for the stupid opera. Her adoring tutor had demanded she go last in the line of auditioning girls so she would stay the freshest in the managers' minds. Madison had been sitting in the hall outside of the rehearsal hall, listening to the last girl before her sing when the note had fluttered down from the shadows above. She had only caught a glimpse of the sender man as he turned back. Red wax in the form of a leering skull glared up at her as she picked the piece of paper off the ground. It was just two simple lines written in blotched red ink that said the date and the time to be in the garden for a meeting. No mention what the meeting was to be about. That was just like him, wasn't it? To keep her waiting in the dark and in the cold, to please his will.

Warm orange light cast itself against the leaves which drew her eye upwards from the note in her hands. It disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared. Tension crept up her spine, cementing her to the spot where she sat. Fears of being discovered by Philibert or worse yet, Raoul bothered her entire walk out from the house. For the two weeks she had been traveling back and forth to the opera, Raoul insisted on grilling her the instant she returned from the city. Thankfully she was able to avoid his questions with the assistance of Philibert or Christine who always seemed to have some odd thing for her to do. Philibert usually pulled her in to the library where they would spend most of the evening reading quietly until the bell for dinner rang. She preferred those evenings over what Christine considered to be lessons in etiquette. Madison snapped out of her thoughts, straining her eyes to see through the darkness in the little light that moon offered up.

A large shadow moved from the corner across her line of vision and then seemed to disappear. Madison's voice was long lost in her fear of the dark around her. Breeze drifted across the back of her exposed neck, carrying what sounded like a voice. It drew her to look at one of the openings in the hedges. A black form stood there for a moment before flitting away. It had to been Erik who was obviously in a mood tonight. Madison adjusted the boots she had lifted from one of the de Chagny's servants as she made her way out of the house. Slick slush squelched under her feet as she went to stand where the form had been. She peered down the left side of the corridor, expecting to see him down at the end. It was a little more shocking when there was nothing there. Madison stepped out, hands stuffed in her coat pockets only to be grabbed from behind. One would think she would have learned better by now.

"Good evening, Mockingbird." There was the low silken voice he used when he was trying to get to her do something. Usually sing. It wrapped itself around her, freezing her to the spot where she stood. That voice was so hard to resist. It was the strings tying her to him, creating an odd longing to hear him sing within her. Madison was finding it more difficult to spend time away from him where she couldn't hear him speak. "I am glad you could make it to our little meeting. Thank you for waiting so patiently for me."

"It is freezing out here. You were taking too long to show up." Her tone was short and annoyed at Erik's attempted jab at her impatience. Something he was far more constantly guilty of being than she was. Madison took a few steps away from her teacher, turning to face him. The light reappeared, illuminating the white mask in a rather terrifying way. No emotion displayed itself on his features. The Phantom just stood here, watching her closely. "I need to get warm or I will catch a cold and be unable to sing."

"It would be a shame for our Beatrice to sound like a bleating goat. Shall we continue our little rendezvous in your room, Madison?" Heat filled her face at the thoughts that filled her head when he had muttered rendezvous. There was a hint of so much more in that word. More than talking. It had been all in the way he had said it too. As if he was thinking the same things and implanted the ideas with just an utterance. Those thoughts were pushed out of her head when she realized what he had called her.

"Beatrice? I am Beatrice?" This was some weird cruel trick. It had to be. "I just wanted to be Margaret or even Ursula, if I had to sing. Personally I just wanted to stand in the back and sort of sing… I don't have the… presence or the attitude to be Beatrice!"

"Oh my dear mockingbird, you have attitude enough to be our lovely Beatrice. Such a talent as yourself should not be pushed to the side as Margaret or Ursula or as part of the chorus." He took her hand in his own gloved one and led her through the garden back towards the house. There was a light in one of the windows. The library. It was difficult to tell if Raoul still inhabited the room or if the servants had just left the lights on from where they were in the maze. "I am afraid that I don't know which of the rooms belongs to you. Would you be as kind as to show me the way?" This felt like some awful trap, showing this man where she slept. It was supposed to be the place that she was safe from his gaze and his grasp. That line was blurring so quickly that it felt futile to deny him the knowledge. He would find out one day.

Not wanting to be discovered by whoever was in the library, Madison took Erik through one of the servant side doors. Her breath was frozen in her chest as they crept through the grand home to the room that she called her own. The door never sounded louder as she slowly pushed it open nor had she had ever been so nervous to have someone see how she lived in her own space. Clothing that had been bought by the Comtesse was lazily tossed on the floor. Books sat in small piles here and there. Madison made a dash to hide the pretty corsets that were scattered here and there. They weren't anything special, not like the ones she knew Christine owned. Still she didn't want Erik to think his student was an ungrateful slob to the people who were taking care of her. It wasn't until she had shut the silk things into a drawer and turned back to her tutor that she realized he wasn't quite paying attention to her.

"First off, how are the de Chagnys treating you?" One of her Jules Vern books was being turned over in his gloved hands. Fingers delicately tracing over the embossed glided cover. She had the sudden desire to be that book that was being oh so careful inspected. The thought of it sent shivers down her spine.

"Um. Fair. Christine is trying to mold me in to a proper lady, like herself…"

"I would prefer if you did not end up like a proper lady like Christine." Erik had seemed to tense up at the idea, sitting on the bed while setting the book next to himself.

"Trust me. She is failing rather fantastically. As you can see, I am scandalously clad with a strange man on my bed. I say that nothing Christine has taught me had actually settled in. Phil…" Madison was in the process of removing her coat and borrowed boots when she felt the daggers of Erik's glare. She knew it was coming. She had expected it. What she hadn't expected was for Erik to be instantly behind her. Might as well finish the sentence. "Philibert has been the perfect companion. Sweet, gentle and very loving. He reminds me of my younger brothers in some ways. He is the one who bought me all these books." Madison turned around to face Erik, resigned. He was staring down at her, those amber eyes all fire and jealousy. "He keeps Raoul away from me." Erik's expression softened as he took a step back from his young pupil. It then changed in to something akin to rage.

"What do you mean he keeps Raoul away from you?" This was dangerous waters she had stepped in to and was completely unsure where to step. A wrong move meant drowning.

"Well… The instant I return home from the Opera, Raoul tries to pull me in to the library to question me about… you. He wants to know where you live, if it is really you. Things of that nature. There was only one time he managed to get me in to that room. He just devolved in to screaming at me the more he drank. I even think that he might have… might have raised his hand a few times to strike me. Never did." Perhaps she had turned the wrong way in the water. Madison thought that she probably could have done without telling Erik about Raoul drinking and his anger when she refused to say anything. "Philibert found me and ever since has been whisking me away to some other part of the house to do some odd thing. Usually read. That is why I have so many books." Her tutor said nothing in response. He let her pass him to settle herself on the large bed. Erik sat himself back on the side, still very tense.

"Erik… I can handle Raoul. He is sort of like a spoiled dog that isn't used to getting its way. His bark is way bigger than his bite. As for Philibert, he is nice."

"A distraction."

"Yes. From the man who acts like he owns me and demands every fiber of my soul. His kindness and sweetness is very refreshing. He demands nothing of me beyond friendship."

"A distraction nonetheless. I disapprove of how close you are letting the Vicomte get to you, even though he is saving you from the Comte. Be careful how you tread there, little Mockingbird."

"Why should I be careful how I tread?"

"Not all men as virtuous as you wish them to be. My next question, is there anything you are in need of? They keep you well feed and dressed, yes?" She just nodded in response as she scampered under the sheets. It had been a busy day of auditions and she just wanted to sleep. "What are you doing? We were unable to have our lesson today so we will conduct it now."

"Over my cold dead body, we are." She scoffed at him, settling deeper under her blankets. Hands pulled at the edge in attempt to re-expose Madison. She had created something of a cocoon around herself with the blankets, refusing to relent to Erik's insistence. "I am going to sleep, sir. You need to remove yourself from the room." The weight on the bed shifted and placed itself over her. Erik had moved to straddle her as to get a better position. Madison squirmed underneath, knowing full well what she was doing. He stiffed slightly, but kept pulling at the bed sheets.

"Oh. Come on, my teasing mockingbird. You will sound like a crow if we do not continue our lessons." Strength seemed to return to the phantom as he finally managed to rip the sheets back from the girl. She lay on her back with her hair all messed up and tangled. It framed her face in soft auburn tufts. Madison felt the warmth of her cheeks, knowing that they were red. She blinked, trying to conceal her smirk as Erik sat back some. She watched as his eyes slowly traveled their way downwards. They stopped where his legs had trapped the blankets from exposing her further. It was when he was carefully extracting the blankets from underneath his body that Madison realize her chemise was twisted around to expose her legs and well… other parts. Her voice was lost in her throat as the air tickled her thighs. The fabric of Erik's pants rubbed against her legs in a delicious way, cool and rough. "Oh Mockingbird. Look at you."

"Erik… Erik… Please." She stayed perfectly still while his hand slowly ran up her side to settle on her cheek. He leaned in closer with his eyes dark with deep desire. "Our lessons."

"Lessons… What about a different sort of lesson for tonight?" His voice was thick, pouring into her ear like warm honey. Madison made an attempt to sit upwards, but Erik forced her back down on to the mattress. He kissed the nape of her neck, pushing her auburn hair out of his way. His breath was warm on her skin, causing her body to tingle all the way to her core.

"No. We need to work on the opera. First rehearsal is tomorrow…" He ignored her, clutching handfuls of her hair. His mouth worked its way to her own, finding her lips parted. "Erik." His tongue flicked along her bottom lip, baiting her to do the same. "Erik, no. Erik."

"Erik." Nadir Kahn stood in the doorway of Madison's room, his hand still on the door handle. He looked back into the hallway before entering the room and shutting the door behind himself. "What are you doing here?" His tone was rushed and panicked. Erik removed himself from on top of Madison who quickly adjusted her chemise and recovered herself with the blankets.

"I had my meeting with Madison today…"

"This I know and I can see it is going swimmingly well. I mean what are you doing in the house? Raoul is headed down this way. He is in a rage over the casting at the opera and demands that she starts answering his questions or find herself a new place to take up space." Nadir locked the door, and then crossed the room to the doors that led to a small balcony overlooking the front drive of the home. Madison looked slowly from the Persian to the Phantom who seemed to being having a very intense staring match. "I would suggest we both make ourselves scarce posthaste."

"Our lessons…"

"Can wait." It would seem however that Erik disagreed with that idea. In fact, he seemed rather embolden by the idea of their meeting being cut shorter than he anticipated. He forced Madison to stand up out of the bed, shoving the coat she had been wearing earlier back in to her arms. The phantom looked over the clothing that currently covered the floor, but seemed to deem none of it worthy of taking. "Erik. She can't come with us."

"Why the hell not? She is coming to live with you." Tension in the room flared as Erik rounded on his friend who stood his ground against the taller man.

"Erik, my friend. They would know where to find her."

"I am right here. Good lord, you two. I am staying here and I want you both to leave. Now" She pulled back violently when Erik made a grab for her arm. "No. Leave. Now!" Nadir started to slip out of the room through the balcony door. "No, no, wait. Why the hell are you here?"

"My thoughts on the matter exactly." Well, this was a night full of unannounced arrivals in to her room. Madison clutched the woolen coat closer to her chest. Raoul stood at the door, shirtsleeves un-tucked and waistcoat unbuttoned. He carried a bottle in his free hand while the other held the door open. "Why in hell would a wanted fugitive trespass in to the home of his victim's family? Blatantly further traumatizing an already traumatized young girl." A flash of silver in Raoul's hand alerted Madison to the pistol that he must have pulled from the waist of his pants. It was raised to be pointed directly at Erik who still stood beside Madison, hand outstretched towards her. She looked at Erik who didn't even glance back at her but instead grabbed the girl up without a word and was out on the balcony before Raoul could fire off a shot. A short scream filled the night's air as the ground came rushing up towards them. Madison stopped as soon as she realized the sound was coming from her own throat. She also found herself clinging to Erik for dear life. As soon as his feet found their place on the paved stones, she struggled against him to free herself. His grip on her loosened, sending Madison tumbling. It took a moment to straighten her balance out but the instant it returned, she turned on Erik.

"You stupid, pig-headed man!" She shoved him with all the force she could muster. Madison knocked herself over more than Erik. He just watched her silently as she yanked on the wool coat she hadn't let go of. "Stupid man. I am staying here. I am not your puppet that you can pull off the shelf and make dance. At least not while I am here. We can keep with the stupid lessons as long as you do not touch me. Stupid, stupid man." Madison glared at him over the up-turned collar of the coat. "And for your information, I am not the puppet of the De Chagny family."

Silence. The Phantom made no response, just kept staring at her. Madison felt instantly uncomfortable. She turned on her heel, heading back towards the garden where they had originally met. Erik kept pace with her, silent the entire time as they walked further from the house. It wasn't until they were a fair distance that she turned to speak to him again.

"Do you think…?"

"Raoul would not harm Nadir. He is too good a resource for the Comte to rid himself of. So are you now that he has seen me in your presence. His vendetta against me is strong and for good reason. His wife was insistent they return to the Paris social life, mostly to reconnect herself to the Opera House. Obvious reasons need not to be explained for that, I suppose. I am sorry about what just transpired. I lost my head a bit…" He glared at her when she made a disbelieving noise. "The casting becomes officially announced tomorrow. Do you have something nice to wear? Not over the top, but nice." Madison stared at him, unsure how to respond. His personality was everywhere tonight.

"Yes…"

"Good. I shall see you tomorrow then. I think it best for me to return now." Footsteps and the rustling of plants betrayed Nadir's arrival. He looked slight ruffled, but no worse for wear. "We should take our leave. I am sorry to have upset so you so tonight. Please forgive me."

"I forgive you as long as you never touch me again. You are my teacher, nothing else." There was a brief pause as if Erik was thinking the implications over in his head.

"I promise to never offend you in that manner again. You must promise to uphold our agreement though. Stay away from the Vicomte." Thank the heavens for the dark. Madison rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"I and the Vicomte will remain friends. Nothing more. Now, leave before Raoul shows up." Erik disappeared in to the darkness of the maze followed by Nadir who gave Madison a quick half-bow before perusing the Phantom. Their voices carried slightly, growing fainter as they left her behind. Something about her being a stubborn child from Erik… A child, huh? Her pride powered her forward after them, drawing her further away from the house and towards the line of trees that begun the forest. She hesitated at the exit of the garden, never venturing so far before. Erik and Nadir still could be heard. They weren't that much farther up ahead, really. She could catch them before she got hopeless lost and show Erik's jaw just how much of a child she was.

Twigs snapped under foot as Madison maneuvered through the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of the men ahead of her. Their voices were disappearing faster than she had anticipated. She struggled to stay at a pace where she could hear them talking. Suddenly, they were gone entirely. The only noises were those of the forest surrounding her. Animals in the distance and a slight breeze rustling the trees, but no hint of Erik or Nadir. Great. Once again her desire to show up Erik had only hurt her. She had best turn right back around, and try to find the garden again. All she had to do was go straight the way she came. That should put her in the right place. Yes. As long as she had been traveling straight the entire time… Her feet ached, crying out at being abused in such a manner. There had been no time to grab shoes or slippers when Erik snatched her up.

Moonlight broke through the limbs of the trees, lowly illuminating her way as she tried to carefully step through the underbrush. Rocks and sticks stabbed at the pads of her feet relentlessly. A fallen tree sat just off to her left and looked a good a place as any to rest a moment. Her sense of direction was shot now anyways. Madison was fairly certain she had turned at some point in her pursuit of her tutor. Just not certain of which way that had been. Her only hope to find her way back now was to curl up next to a tree, fall asleep and wait till morning when there would be more light. The forest fell eerily still as she stopped moving around, settling herself next to the fallen trunk. Sleep was not going to come easy like this.

"Boy?" Terror froze her to the spot. Had she fallen asleep already? Was it morning? No, it was still dark out. Madison timidly looked around. There was no way. The voice was familiar, but the source was nowhere to be seen "Boy, or should I call you Missy? You have a bad habit of ending up in places you don't belong, Missy." Hands appeared to drag to her feet roughly. A light blinded her before revealing who had pulled her from the ground.

"Erik?" She stared in to the face of a man who looked identical to her Phantom. Her Phantom? The Phantom. Identical? No. This man had olive green eyes, but they definitely shared a face. It was interesting to note they did not share a deformity. Where Erik's skin pitched and bubbled, this man's was smooth and covered in a light stubbly beard. Madison had to restrain herself from reaching to see if it was just a mask that Erik might have been wearing. He was a little taller than Erik. The light from the lantern concealed most of everything else.

"Erik? You okay, Missy?" They even seemed to share a voice. "The name is Matthias Valjean. Who might you be?" It took a while for the question to register with her. Madison shook herself a little and rubbed at her eyes.

"Madison DeLogio, I am the ward of the De Chagny family." She bit her lip, wishing she had shut her mouth sooner. She knew nothing about this man who just appeared from the shadows.

"The ward of the De Chagny's? You are fair distance from their grand palace, Missy. How did you get all the way in the woods? It is dangerous out here alone." The grin that appeared on his face made Madison recoil from him slightly. The man laughed. "I am not going to hurt you. Shall we get you back to where you belong?" She just nodded and took his hand. They walked in silence through the woods, Matthias leading the way. The lantern in his hand swung from side to side, casting light on the trees in wild splashes.

"What are you doing out here?" Her voice found itself again, squeaking out. "I mean… I ended out here because I must have been sleep-walking again."

"Sleep-walking, right… Well, my caravan is set up a few yards from where I found you. I was out looking for fire wood." Sounded reasonable enough to her tired mind. Her own reason for being out in the woods was flimsy at best. It felt like a journey through forever but they soon stood at the edge of the driveway up to the front of the house that ran along the forest. "Oh…You don't have any shoes on. Here." Without another word, Matthias scooped Madison up in his arms and started carrying her towards the house. She just stared at him, a little incredulous. Where in the world did this man come from?

Her mouth opened to ask him a question when the front doors of the manor burst open. Raoul stood in the entryway as several of the servants came rushing out to retrieve Madison from the man. Matthias continued past them to set Madison on her feet in the foyer. He turned to Raoul who was staring at like the man had two heads or something.

"Uh… Thank you, sir. I was about to send out a search party for the young lady." Raoul seemed much calmer now. He was even more put together with a smoking jacket on and tied about his waist. One of the head maids set a pair of slippers in front of Madison to step in to. She wobbled a little, trying to keep her focus mainly on her supposed savior. "How can I repay you?"

"No worries, sir. I was just passing through when I saw the poor lass wandering around. I will just be on my way. No need to repay me, sir." The two men shook hands. Matthias pulled something out from his back pocket as he turned to leave. He set it on his head, a newsy cap. The man looked back at Madison. The shadow of the brim obscured his face, exposing only his mouth… Just like the man on New Year's Eve. He smiled the same sinister smile that he had given her in the woods and in the street. "Best be more careful, Missy. There are dangerous men out there."

"He is right, you know." Raoul chimed shutting the door behind Matthias. "You are the most reckless young woman. He is a monster and is only using you. He doesn't care about you. He will leaving you bleeding like any other man in the end. Don't keep protecting him."

"Raoul… I am tired. I need to get cleaned up. I don't need you harping at me like some nurse. I have Christine for that." He inhaled indigently as she stomped up the stairs to her chamber. The servants were clucking about her condition and how little time they had to prepare a proper bath for her. All she needed was a small basin to wash her feet off in, but no… in to the large copper tub she went. It was freezing. She shivered fiercely as one of the maids scrubbed at her hair, tsking the entire process at all the dirt and twigs she had collected in the woods. Another maid tried to wash her feet but Madison refused to let anyone touch her feet. She could do it herself, dismissing everyone from the washroom. Twenty minutes later, she was clean, hair braided and dressed in a fresh pale blue night gown. Her room was thoroughly tossed about. The work of Raoul no doubt. That is why he was so calm at the door earlier. She straightened the sheets on her bed, climbing under them.

What in the world had just transpired? How did that man… Matthias find her in the woods? There was no way his caravan story was real. He must have been following her since that day… He was that man on the opera steps as well. If he had wanted to harm her, he could have done so out in the woods but instead he chooses to help her out. Why? She slipped away in to a fitful and uneasy sleep. Her dreams weren't of the Labyrinth again. This time, it was a graveyard. Vast and crowded with graves that had no names inscribed on them. _Wandering around till every single stone looked the same as the next. A pistol held securely in the left hand, carefully looking around a corner to find an open pit amongst the tombstones. Another quick look about before moving forward to stand at the edge of it looking in. There lying at the bottom was a girl, her face covered with a veil. Madison opened her eyes to see Erik standing at the edge of the grave above her, pistol in hand as dirt began to fill in the pit._


	11. When Preparation Meets Opportunity

**Chapter 11**

_-_ _Success always comes when preparation meets opportunity. ~ Henry Hartman -_

**Paris, France – January 1875**

Chattering voices filled the rehearsal hall, each trying to overtake the other in an attempt to claim dominion in the conversation. All those who had been in attendance at call backs were now gathered together, waiting to be handed their parts. Claire Tulio and her little entourage of admirers were making the most noise in the room. The young Italian singer had successfully segregated Madison from the rest of the young performers. It was all well and fine with the young American girl. It gave her more time to read the books that Philibert had so lovingly collected for her. She currently sat in a wooden chair against in the farthest corner of the back wall in the hall, engrossed in Jules Verne's _Around the World in Eighty Days_. It was sort of a shame she has read through it so quickly. She brought it on every trip back in to Paris for lessons with Erik, thought about getting back to reading while she should have been focusing on her breathing. That had incurred a few lectures from a rather irritated Phantom. Madison brought her attention back to the book with a sigh. Some H.G Wells would be great to include in her little collection, but she wasn't sure of his publishing dates. If this whole charade of a casting meeting ended soon, Christine would let her travel alone to the book store. Maybe she could get a first edition of _Les Misérables… _

The logic in her mind was screaming at her not to get comfortable. She should be trying to find a way home. Madison pushed the uncomfortable thoughts aside, shifting in her seat. Her eyes darted up from the printed words at the crowd of people in front of her. She placed a finger on the page she was reading and gently closed the book on it before looking properly around. She knew almost no one in this room. With all the commotion in the nearly two months she had been here, there hadn't been a lot of time to be social outside of the demented love triangle that encircled her. Claire had taken care of her window of opportunity as well, she was sure. If there wasn't a vicious rumor about her boinking Roaul's brains out backstage, she might actually feel a little hurt. Honestly, how could a nobody rise up in the opera's ranks so quickly if they weren't sleeping with the patron? The thought made the girl sigh a little as she returned to her book. Some things never changed really. There were always going to be people who couldn't handle themselves in public.

Her attention was drawn away from her reading as some of the older members got up to glad-hand the managers who had just walked in. They were waiting on the Comte and Comtesse to arrive, as a courtesy said Firmin. It was odd that it was taking them so long to walk in to the room. They had arrived the same time as Madison, in the same carriage. Christine must be having some sort of difficulties. She looked rather pale this morning at the breakfast table with dark shadows under her eyes. It was sweet the way Raoul was fussing over her, getting her the tea she likes and the right sort of toast. It was becoming more and more apparent that they were made for each other. Raoul was in something of a rough patch with the new baby coming and the responsibilities of his title. Returning to the Opera perhaps wasn't the best move for them. Erik wasn't helping anything either. It felt as though he was intentionally putting stress on them. He probably was and using her as some sort of wedge to drive between them. Would he do that to his beloved Christine? Madison had no answer to that question. She never dared ask just how things actually ended between them or if the events that played out in the story from her time were even close to accurate.

Oh Erik. What a sheltered, selfish man he was. Not like he had anyone to teach him to act otherwise though. He was definitely an all or nothing sort of man who abhorred the thought of anyone looking at what he claimed as his. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen a sign of his presence all morning. No note, no shadow in the odd hallway, nothing from the man who claimed to be her tutor. Madison had expected something from him. Maybe he was hiding behind a wall, listening in to the room. She glanced at a vent in the floor, half expecting to see a pair of eyes looking back at her. Nothing but darkness. It wasn't like she needed him to be around for her. She could handle this on her own. It just felt odd with the way that he had carried on the night before about her needing to be more committed to his teachings or something. The girl hardly remembered what was said in the cover of the night. Probably better that way.

He had said something about her needing to dress well for this occasion. She at least remembered his insistence on that. Christine and the usual maids had helped her in to a very pretty afternoon dress in a deep shade of plum purple. The Comtesse was going on about the designer, a man with the last name Worth. Madison wasn't sure who she was talking about, just that the dress was fairly stunning on her. Paired with some short white leather gloves and a hat that was Christine's, Madison actually looked the part of an Opera Prima Donna. She wasn't sure that this was what Erik was talking about though. She fit right in with the Claire Tulios and La Carlottas of the opera world. He probably wanted her to stand out like a burning star or something. Not just another peacock to strut about the stage and bark out lyrics like a dog.

"Ah, Yes. Ladies and Gentlemen. The Comte and Comtesse de Chagny… Oh, and the Vicomte de Chagny." Her head shot up at the announcement of Philibert's title. He was supposed to be studying with his tutors back at the estate today. The group of performers applauded for the noble family as soon as they had stepped through the door. Philibert shook a couple hands, keeping his gaze scanning the room. He finally saw her sitting in the back and excused himself from the crowd. Madison felt a little thrill when he smiled at her, taking the seat next to her. He took her hand from the book, placing a kiss on her glove-clad knuckles. She smiled brightly at him, trying to ignore the looks she was getting from the ladies who had set their cap at the Vicomte.

"Phil- Vicomte, what are you doing here?" She got no response from him. Only a smile as he brought a single finger to his lips and let go of her hand. Their attention was pulled to the front of the room as Firmin and André commanded the ears of those gathered.

"First of all, we want to thank you all for your patience in the audition process. There is an incredible amount of talent in this company." André proclaimed while fluttering his hands about. Firmin look mildly annoyed at his partner, but kept a rather forced smile on his face. "We are going to announce the casting decisions, hand out the scripts and do a quick cold read through. Proper schedules will be posted by the afternoon. Rehearsals start tomorrow. So, without further ado…"

"The role of Héro is to be played by Claire Tulio," Her entourage burst in to applause as she acted as if this was the biggest surprise of her life. Firmin looked positively flustered at the interruption. "Claudio will be portrayed by Bernard Geoffrey," More applause. "Victor Charton is our Don Pedro, Felix Montaubry is Somarone, Coralie-Anne is Ursula, and Léonato will be our Vicomte de Chagny." Suddenly the eyes of the entire company were on the pair sitting comfortably in the back. The silence was broken by Raoul who start clapping. Everyone else followed suit, confusion still written all over their expressions. Madison wasn't all that surprised to note the younger girls including Claire were to scheming together over the poor Vicomte. They looked like wolves ready to pounce on a sheep.

"As for our Beatrice… This role was very difficult to cast. We had to have someone who could keep up with the ever witty Anton Favreau as Benedict," André allowed for applause as Monsieur Favreau took a bow with a smirk, "This young lady seem to fit the bill quite nicely and her debut is sure to bring us all a grand success. Please join me in congratulating Mademoiselle Lucia Russo in join our cast of principles." A gorgeous red-head dressed in a truly stunning cream colored gown trimmed in an icy blue silk stood up from amongst Claire's group of followers. She looked like an angel, taking an appropriately graceful bow as she was applauded. That was what Erik was talking about. Mademoiselle Russo was a perfect replacement for the likes of the Vicomtesse. She was so beautiful. It was strange that a certain Opera Ghost hadn't focused his attention on that girl. Perhaps more proof that he was just searching for a pawn to place near his precious Christine. Waking up in his lap so to speak was all the attention-getting Madison needed to do in order to have the Phantom breathing down her neck. The thought wandered in why he was wasting his time with someone who was obviously of little talent and of little notice to anyone else. She suddenly felt extremely uncomfortably and hideous in her dress, like a pig wrapped up in a silk curtain.

Madison was certain that Claire shot her a triumphant look then returned to smiling at her friend. The Italian Soprano was definitely going out of her way in an attempt to make Madison's life miserable. If money was to be bet, she guessed it had to do with the New Year's ball and the fact she sang as a replacement. A grudge was a grudge. Madison turned her attention to Christine who was clapping politely and Raoul who looked beyond smug with himself. This was probably his doing. She tried to think back to the previous night. Had he said something to her before she walked away from him? He had, saying Erik was just using her and would let her die if it meant achieving his own goals. Whatever he and Nadir had discussed earlier in the evening must have been over some correspondence that went to the managers. Taking a thick leather folio from a young man, Madison had another round of thoughts. What if the manager never planned to give her the part? Simply ignore the demands of the Opera Ghost. He didn't really hold any true power over the opera house any longer. People weren't afraid of his legend like they had, or at least how she imagined they been. Erik probably didn't demand anything. There hadn't been any mention of notes or Phantoms since the New Year's party. The only notes that seemed to be appearing were the ones he was addressing to her. At any rate, it was still going to incur the wrath of the almighty Phantom.

"Philibert…" She gently nudged him with her hand, keeping the calm look plastered on her face. "Philibert. Directly after this reading, we are going to leave the opera house. I don't care where we go. I just don't want to stay here… I really wanted the part of Beatrice. Claire will torment me about this. She would say such awful things while I was rehearsing for the auditions. I couldn't stand to hear what she comes up for this. Do you think you could take me to the book shop you go to?"

"Oh, sure. I don't see why not," Philibert paused a moment "Listen… I am sorry you didn't get anything outside of the chorus." Madison had no time to respond as the read through commenced almost immediately. She sat in the back, silently as the others read through lines. Her stomach growl lowly and angrily at her, but there was nothing she could do at this point. The reading trudged on at a snail's pace with the only amusement being Philibert reading lines every now and then. Part of her was immensely relieved that she was not going to be the focus of this cast. It was just a step up from where she would rather be, which was off-stage entirely. Madison had been intensely staring at a crack in the floorboards when the scraping of chair legs brought her back to reality. Things had finally ended; people were leaving in clumps… She wanted to leave out of the opera house in one of the waves, lest she become isolated again through one of the Phantom's games. Philibert apparently had the same idea as her, taking her folio of music and book in his hands. He tucked them all neatly under one arm then offered his freed one to Madison. She linked her arm with his as they joined in the exodus out the door. They followed the group out, no concern for the older couple they left behind in the practice room. Sunlight beamed down on the young couple as they exited the shade of the building.

"So where is this bookshop at?" Madison slipped her arm out from her male companion's, letting Philibert get a few steps ahead of her before she turned to look back at the opera building. She half expected to see the Phantom looming amongst the angels, glaring down at her with the intensity of Death. There was nothing amongst the statues. It was as if he had vanished from the building. "Close by?"

"Somewhat. We will need to take the carriage. My brother and Christine are meeting some associates of theirs for lunch so we have use of it for an hour or two." He motioned towards the family carriage. She took hold of his arm again as he assisted her down the last few steps and up in to the cab. They rode along in contented silence, away from the opera house. Madison took in the sight of the city with some amazement as they began to travel alongside the Seine. She couldn't resist the urge to stick her head out the open window to get a better look at the river. A hand gently tugged at her elbow, trying to get her to come back.

"Are we going to Notre Dame?" Her expression must have been something because Philibert started laughing as soon as she whipped around from the window. "Oh can we? Please? I have never seen it in person before." This was true. Her tour group had the grand cathedral scheduled for the next day after she and Christine had made their own detour. What idiots they were, separating from the group to trespass in a foreign country.

"The book shop I like happens to be right by the cathedral. We can go in before the bookshop if you really want to." She could hardly hold still as they drew closer, nervously bouncing her leg. Could these horses be any slower? "Can you see it yet?" The grand dark structure loomed up from the middle of the river, a reminder of Paris' history among all her glamour. It felt like ages waiting for the horses to stop. When they finally did, Madison could not wait for the footman to open the door. She burst out of the carriage (as best as she could in a corset and bustle) and gasped at little at the sight in front of her. Philibert maneuvered around her, straightening his coat. They started walking but Madison couldn't stop staring at everything but the pavement where she was wandering.

The plaza of the Notre Dame was bursting with color and sound. Stalls were set up in disarrayed rows, selling almost everything imaginable. Cloths from mystical Arabia, spices from the Far East, rare food from all around Europe. Music and laughter drifted from somewhere in the chaos. Madison stood at Philibert's side on the worn, cracked steps of the church. She felt her cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling so much, but she couldn't help it in the moment. This was a real gypsy market. The sort of thing she only saw in movies or on the television. People were everywhere. Many were well-dressed Parisians, out for a walk and to amuse themselves with a distraction. Madison was more interested in the gypsies who were selling goods, playing music and minding children. She looked at her companion with a sheepish, pleading smile. The young French man rolled his, crossing his arms in front of himself.

"I thought you wanted to see the Cathedral and the book shop. These things are just traps for people like them to swindle money out of the pockets of Parisians." The disgust was thick in his voice. "Shall we start with the Cathedral?" He turned away from the commotion of the square, heading in to the church. Madison was left alone in front of the stone saints standing guard. Their cold hard gaze stared straight on through her, uninterested in the purple satin clad young woman.

"Well, well. You definitely look like a Vicomte's lady today, my dear." Her eyes met a pair of olive green ones. Matthias Valjean was watching her inspect the stone saints with a funny smirk playing at the edges of his finely shaped mouth. He held out a tanned hand for her to take, but Madison took a few steps away from him and closer to the church door.

"You are the man who was in the woods last night. What in the world are you doing here, Monsieur Valjean?" She asked, placing a hand on her hip. The man grinned, beginning to laugh.

"Some of the folks from my caravan are set up with their wares here. I was just on my way to check up on the little lost lamb. I thought you would still be at that awful stuffy opera house. You apparently escaped from that only to be dragged in to something far more boring." Matthias winked at her with a dazzling smile. Wonder if that is how Erik looks if he would just simply smile. Why was she thinking about that infuriating man? "How about I escort you about the square till the dancing starts later on?"

"It is flattering for you to ask me sir, but I am here with the Vicomte. He promised me that he take me to the Cathedral and his favorite book shop. I best catch up with him inside."

"Tsk, Tsk. We are here to have fun, no? At least, that is why I came. Its a few hours before tonight's dance. There is…" The rest of his words were drowned out by the thundering bells in the towers above. He quickly grabbed her hand, dragging a distracted Madison into the nearest row of booths. There didn't seem to be intent to harm her although he was taking her far from Notre Dame. She hadn't realized the booths continued on out of the plaza and down the street in to a much larger square. The young girl spotted a large open area with an ornamented stage that was empty. Matthias glanced at her with grin before tugging her down a row of vendors. How would Philibert ever find her now?

Situated between the Opera L'Populaire and the festival plaza was Nadir's home, a lovely apartment that was well furnished with beautiful things from his homeland. The streets below the apartment building were scarcely populated. Few people that appeared were gypsies on their way back to the festival with arms full of wares or other Parisians leaving from it with their pockets much lighter. Nadir sat on the thick windowsill, indifferently watching those rare pedestrians. Troubled thoughts fleeted through his mind leaving no room to be bothered with the daily lives of his neighbors. The week before the auditions had gone painfully slow with Erik haunting this living room every day. He claimed that it kept him from being tempted to wring the life out of his precious pupil. The first day was hell according to the masked man. Madison spent every chance she got with her nose buried in a different book. She refused to work on the things that he commanded her to practice unless he was dragging her next to the little parlor organ to sing. . Erik nearly flung the lasso around that girl's neck out of frustration. Nadir shook his head, staring out at the cityscape. That little singer was odder then the Comtesse. At least Christine followed instructions, allowed herself to become greater than she was alone.

A fierce knock on his door aroused the man from his meditation. Nadir was not expecting anyone, Erik having threatened to stay very close to his pupil during the casting announcements. It must have gone well considering there was no commotion coming from the opera house. If things weren't announced as planned, a few broke light fixtures might be the least of the managers' worries. The Persian slowly unlocked the bolt, opening the door to see Erik Destler standing in the doorway. A puzzled expression was spread across his dark features as his friend stormed past into the tiny parlor sitting down on a black upholstered chair with a slight thud.

"What is this all about, my friend?" Nadir shut the door after making sure there had been no one was in the hallway to see Erik. He sat himself down cross from the masked man, wondering if the visit was going to last long enough to warrant some tea.

"Have you seen DeLogio?"

"Madison? No, not since last night. Was she not at the casting?"

"She was, that damned girl. She was to show for practice afterwards but that Vicomte whisked her away into the city. I have no idea where they could be. We urgently need to work on her music for the opera. A new rival has appeared within the opera house," Erik smirked darkly, "A rival worthy of Christine. She made Madison look like a tone-deaf monkey in the auditions. This woman might even best the Comtesse at her peak. Do you think I can rid myself of the monkey for a real talent?" Nadir didn't like the implication behind Erik's words nor the dark grin that carved itself on his features. He watched the other man stand up out of the chair to pace about the room.

"Now, my friend, just because the mountain suddenly is steeper to climb does not mean you should stop. You should take this as a challenge. You have to admit that making Christine sing better than La Carlotta was easy. This will be a true testament to your musical genius to transform this unruly child in a world class Prima Donna." Remaining in his own chair, Nadir watched as the dark musician spun around. Erik looked ready to pounce upon someone.

"We need her out of the chorus and in to at least a featured role," He muttered, "How interesting this will be considering I am supposed to be dead!"

"Out of the chorus? Well, Shall we pay the managers' office a visit?" Erik must have already thought of this, rushing out of the apartment with Nadir at his heels. The managers, however, were dealing a different unexpected arrival from the mists. One La Carlotta decided to finally make an appearance from the shores of Italy and the apparent squashing of Madison's rise ignited Opera L'Populaire's gossip mill. It most commonly agreed that Madison had fled after encountering the Phantom's ghost who came to rip out her vocal chords for performing so poorly. Ballet brats had taken up the funny habit of traveling in large groups again. If you found one alone, she would take off running in the opposite direction. Many of the younger male stagehands found it funny to drop a makeshift noose down if a few of the girls were walking backstage. The ex-diva's return from the unknown was accredited to Madison's disappearance as well as the actual death of the Opera Ghost. Few of the chorus girls asked why risk coming back to which Carlotta replied (with a grand display of fake tears and sobs).

"No form of ghost or phantom is keeping me from the stage. Piangi would have wanted me to return here. Keep a brave face and all…" The wide, smug smirk on her face was easily wiped away upon hearing the bad news that there was a new leading lady. Some very young unknown from who-knows-where. Her voice rose as she hurled insults at the spineless managers until a knock at the door stopped her tirade. All three stood in the main office starting at the interruption, the two men wearing rather pained expressions. Carlotta stopped yelling as a familiar Persian man entered the room.

"Yes?" prompted Monsieur Firmin, his appearance was almost unprofessional. He straightened up the moment he realized who it was.

"Hello, sirs.. I hope I am not interrupting anything." Nadir paused, unsure if he ought to actually enter into the room. André smiled wearily at him, waving the man in. "I just figured I stop by as I missed the casting announcements as… a new patron. Do you have the list that I may peruse?" The Persian muttered thanks as Firmin handed him a piece of paper. "Claire Tulio? The girl who ran away from the New Years Eve Gala who was supposed to perform?" Carlotta rounded on the managers like a pit-bull with a bone.

"She is not even committed to performing if she can't do the Masquerade without running away! Give ME the girl's part and I will not disappoint you like that whore has." Collapsing wills is the theme tonight, ladies and gentlemen, because Monsieur André threw up his arms, giving in. Firmin ordered her to go retrieve a folio from the music office while he found someone who was still around from the wardrobe department to inform them of the change. The Italian spat out sugary thanks before flouncing out of the office. She was followed by Nadir who just gave a bow to the two managers before disappearing. Unknown to the managers, their worst fear had been watching through one of the hidden vents with venomous glee. Well, this visit worked out far better than one could have hoped. The strange demon quietly walked along the dark passage, his mind swirling with fuzzy thoughts and emotions. It had been a while since his Angel rejected him for the then-Vicomte. He now had a way to reconnect with his precious Christine and a project to distract him from becoming too destructive for his own good.

"..." He would find a way back into Christine's heart. First he had to find his student. Where could that weak-minded boy have taken her?

"It is so beautiful but I just couldn't accept it."

"It is just like you, my little butterfly," Matthias Valjean clasped the chain around the younger girl's neck, despite her fervent protest. "Beautiful and deserving to be displayed". He grinned as her cheeks filled with a pink color at the forward comment. Madison sat on a wooden stool staring in to a small looking glass. She took her time admiring rich amethyst-encrusted cross that hung from her neck. It was really was beautiful. Not something a gypsy should be able to afford, at least not one who proudly boosted of being homeless. The King of Tramps, the name he had called himself, was very confident to the point of being arrogant. Madison caught him looked at her in the mirror. He was watching her closely; something was definitely playing in the back of his mind. How he looked at her made her question why she let him whisk her away from Philibert. Matthias was a complete stranger, much older than her. There was no denying he was handsome, charming and quick with words. He reminded her of someone back home too, but that was no reason to bolt off from someone who has been so kind. Matthias placed a hand on Madison's shoulder to gently rouse her from her thoughts, smirking. He ran it down her arm slowly causing her body to shiver in response. She shifted away from his hand to stand up from the stool. This was a mistake… One she was going to regret.

"Come on." He grabbed her hand, pulling Madison down the street. She walked along side him, allowing him to link his arm with her's. The sudden laughter of children caught her off guard. A group of young boys were playing with a ball in an empty space, kicking it back and forth. One of them kicked too hard sending the ball in Madison's direction. It rolled across the pavement until it progress was halted by her boot. She smiled at the boys, kicking it back their way. The girl waved to them as they continued on down the street. "What was that little Vicomtesse?"

"Oh, they remind me of my siblings. Max and Jason."Her smile faded as she spoke of her brothers.

"You have brothers? Are they older or younger?" He asked, suddenly more interested in what she had to say then the few dancing girls performing at the end of the row. "And do you have other family members that live around here?"

"Younger, Max is 13 and Jason is 9. And no, all my family lives in America, on the West Coast." She said as she shook her head soberly, stepping closer to him to avoid some small boys crowding round a monkey and its trainer. It was dancing along to the music box that the trainer was cranking. Just like her and Erik. Madison sneered a little at the thought of being someone's trained pet, but it really wasn't much different than what she was.

"Why the hell are you in France?" He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. That was a long way from home for any person to be certain. Though his question made her mind go blank. She never thought of an excuse for her presence here in France. She couldn't just say that she was a visitor from the future, and it was nothing, tra-la-la.

"I... am visiting Europe, touring all the great opera houses. I had hoped to work in one someday, behind the scenes of course. Never imagined I find myself in a position to be on the stage of Paris' greatest opera house." Madison finally answered. "I had wandered away from the rest of my tour group, fell asleep, and woke up in the cellars of the Opera L'Popluaire. I am still trying to figure out how though. All I recall is… finding that mask." It suddenly clicked in her mind. The mask must have been the key, acted like a portkey. It had whisked her from her time with Revion and Christine to the world of the Phantom. Her walking companion looked confused, but he just nodded his head.

"The Opera Ghost's mask, made from snow white porcelain. I put it on before I…" Opera Ghost? The rumors were that he was dead and buried between the wretched place itself. It would be best for her not to draw attention to the face that the rumors were false. "Oh, forget it. I am here now… er, who is that?" She pointed to a small group of people making their way in Matthias' direction. He groaned lowly as they approached, but didn't seem that concerned. There were two men and a red-headed young woman that Madison swore she had seen before.

"Madison, may I introduce my companion, Jacques." Matthias said with a bit of a laugh in his tone. Jacques was shorter, just about Madison's height to be exact. He had blue eyes that were aquamarine in shade and sandy blonde hair. Pale, long elegant limbs that were probably prefect in a thief and sly eyes that flickered over each person. Jacques was dressed in a brown tunic and worn out pants. He looked tired though. "The gentleman standing next to him is my good friend, Angeles Richard." Angeles looked the best dressed out of the whole group, wearing a tailored suit, fur-lined overcoat and top hat. His walking stick had a silver handle in the shape of a snarling wolf. Interesting choice. Angeles' raven black hair was slicked back in a fashionable manner. The man had the air of being naturally graceful and he was in fact a fairly good dancer.

"I have met him before actually," Madison interrupted, "At the Masquerade Ball. Monsieur Richard's adopted son. We danced for a short well, I believe". Angeles looked confused for a moment then smiled.

"Ah, yes. We did. You are Miss DeLogio, correct?" He asked with a short, curt bow. She nodded only to get a hard look from him. "You are the one causing my father some great deal of pain at the moment. You ought to get to the Opera House within the next half hour or you will be working for Matthias here." Heat flooded her cheeks. What had she done now? Well, more like what had Erik done? Angeles' red-headed friend spoke up quickly.

"I will go with Mademoiselle DeLogio to the opera house." She said in a beautifully smooth and feminine voice. It suddenly clicked. This was Lucia Russo. Seeing her outside of the opera house made it difficult to place her. She was just as gorgeous up close. No wonder she was set to be the new Prima Donna. Someone like Madison was no competition for this woman. "I have to return for the afternoon rehearsal block anyways." Madison nodded her head, and that was it. The two young women started to make their way through the crowd away from the men.

"Now, Miss DeLogio, how did you manage to find yourself entangled with the Spectre?" Lucia's voiced purred gently as they walked through the crowd.

"I am sorry, what Spectre?" Panic set in. How did Lucia know about Erik? Had she caught them during a lesson? Erik had tried to get her to take lessons back down below but Madison refused to trust him. Was this the end already?

"Matthias. It is the name given to him by the other gypsies. He is sort of the leader over a small pack that seeks out better political standing for the group." Lucia recounted their exploits and how they were now seeking to gain holds in actual institutions. "Take Angeles for example. His father manages the biggest opera house in the city. Loads of important government types come to the galas and shows. What better way to gain their trust and ears? Connections are important, even for young opera singers." What did she mean by that?

"Madison!" Philibert's voice rose over the crowd. She looked up to see him rushing over, very concerned. "Oh, thank goodness. I had thought something horrible had happened. Where did you go?"

"It is my fault, Vicomte. I saw her and just wanted to take about the Opera. I didn't give her a chance to tell me that she was with you." Lucia oozed charm and Philibert seemed to instantly eat it up. He smiled, took her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.

"That is alright. I am glad to have found you both. Shall we return to the opera house together?" Lucia offered her arm to Philibert who took it willingly, leaving Madison to follow behind. Going back to the opera house was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment, especially with Lucia laying on the sugar thick. Jealousy was trying to bubble up. Over Philibert? That was ridiculous. She had bigger problems on her hands. What was Erik going to say to her?


End file.
